


Aren't We Just Terrified?

by ZvezdaMoya



Series: Kingdom Fall [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: And Now For Something Completely Different, Breaking the Fourth Wall, May Be Confusing to Some, Next Generation, Sequel, like really long, long chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZvezdaMoya/pseuds/ZvezdaMoya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: SEQUEL TO ANOTHER WORK I HAVE DONE (When the Day Met the Night) SO SOME THINGS MAY BE CONFUSING AT FIRST IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT. </p><p>The first dropship fell almost 25 years ago and, with it, 100 teens. I wish I could say Death ignored the freed kids, but he stalks happiness. Though, you know their story and I'm not here to retell it. I'm here for him. The shattered boy and his shadow. It's a strange tale, mind you, but one worth listening to. I believe Bellamy once said there is nothing heavier than the world on your shoulders; the subject of this story would disagree. He would hold the earth and the sky on his shoulders, and how it would ache. Now, you're probably wondering what this is actually about, but I'm not one to just spoil the whole story. What I can tell you is this: not all leaders are worthy of their following and sometimes, just sometimes, warriors must stand and lead themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy Born with a Broken Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heya, skaifaya. New here? I know, it's kind of scary. How about I tell you a story so you can settle in? I've got a great one.

I remember life.

I remember the fragile morning light coaxing my eyes open. The wind howling in fear during a storm. The bite of snow on my tongue as I stood on the mountaintop. I can still feel the grass beneath my feet and hear the rush of air as I ran through the meadow. My lungs ached for a break and beads of sweat ran down my face, my hair clinging to my forehead. The world blurred away and it was just me - I miss running. I remember a sky stained in blood. A fatal pain in my left shoulder. Warm liquid trickling down and soaking my shirt. One last message. I remember staring up at my future and being scared. So scared.

That’s what it is to be alive, isn’t it? Memories, feelings, emotions. That’s what makes us human. We’re complicated, I’ve realized. Life is complicated. Death is not. It’s nothing. It’s not cold, it’s not warm. There is no darkness, there is no light. The one thing I will give it: it’s quite temporary.

My name? It does not matter, this is not my story. It’s _his._

**The boy born with a broken heart.**

Not that with it’s first beat it had known pain, but that by it’s last it would. I would come to hear the small cracks form. They would taunt the boy as if any rift could result in a pile of smashed glass. I would see the day his heart finally shattered and burned. He looked up at me on that day, a constellation of tears on his face, and he talked.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I guess I should start at the beginning. Not his beginning, though, his parents’. For those ignorant of the story before, I am of no place to exploit the intimate details the Moon sees as her own, I can but merely summarize it. A boy fell from the sky and met a girl from the ground. A boy called the Sun and a girl of the Night, kin to the Moon herself. Like the lovers of the sky, they too found love in a time without happiness and full of hardship. They knew death and loss and isolation. The boy fell prey to the last while the first nearly claimed the girl, but she was sly-a mountain mover, how dare a mortal think he could fell her-and escaped death’s clutches before she could join the stars she spoke of in tales with a voice of magic. A Nightwalker-those were always my favorites those storytellers. And now it was my turn to tell a tale-one of her son and the lives he changed.

That’s the thing about Nightwalkers, they love to tell stories. _See, they believe when someone dies they become a star, so their family can look up and remember._ But while they exchanged tales of our - the stars - lives, we exchange tales of theirs. What did you expect us to talk about? I’ve heard Cassiopeia's story more times than I care to remember. It always ends the same. That’s why, I think, we take such an interest in their lives. Theirs are still going, a new page being written everyday; our books have been closed, some of them burned. Though, it’s very rare we see such a human which intrigues the whole sky. _His_ story was one of these. It may have been the fact he was the son of a legend, but I believe it’s because he was one himself.

I see the curiosity in your eyes. _Why do you get to tell his story?_ It’s simple: he chose me. He never fails to find me in the sky and when he does, he speaks. It’s never anything too important. When he was smaller it was about the stories his mother had told him (as if I hadn’t heard them enough). But as he grew it became his worries, his anger, his hopes. I know not what about me intrigued him, he didn’t even know my name.

Names.

I wonder how annoyed you are. I imagine you wish to know the name of the boy I keep addressing. I’ll tell you, if only you listen, for his name will be one to remember as long as the sky stays lit.

**Gunner Murphy.**

The curiosity has deepened and is now accompanied by recognition. You know the last name. You should. Son of John Murphy, the arson of the Ark. His mother is of a softer nature, though don’t be mistaken. A warrior - and Heda- of the Nightwalkers’, Kylo trained her son to raise his head and fight. That’s how I would describe him: a fighter. Better yet, a warrior. You can see it in his eyes, a sense of duty - of destiny.

They were a sort of green that always seemed to light up, his eyes. A bright verdant hue, golden paint blossoming in the center. A glint of life illuminated the glossed over colors and captivated not just the sky, but _the shadow_. His hair was a light brown, usually pushed back. Though he would let it fall over his eyes when his hood raised to block out the sun. At the age of 18 (where our story starts) he towered over the majority of his friends and his training had given him strength. Most would assume upon seeing him he held an air of prudence and smugness, but he was a humble boy. Few words fell from his lips at a time and a distance surrounded them. He wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t one to show affection. Something to note: he donned a half cocked smirk when he had an idea or a flash of mischief.  

If I am to tell his story properly, I must first address his companions seeing as it is every bit their tale as it is his.

  * ****Niron Murphy:**** The younger of the Murphy boys. Only 5 years old, but determined to be a warrior like his brother. His hair mirrored the sun’s golden rays and his blue eyes melted with silver.


  * **Sam and Erik Blake:** The twins. I wish I could say one was good and one was bad and they somehow balanced each other out, but they both had a sense of innocent evil. Sam was the quick, witty one who came up with the plan; Erik was the brave soul to carry it out. They shared black, curly hair which covered their deep brown eyes matching their father’s.One year Gunner’s junior, they had all grown up together and labeled themselves his best friends.


  * **Riot Slade:** The first thing anyone ever noticed about him was the worn aviator goggles resting on top of his blond, crazy hair. Wide ocean eyes always observing when words seemed to fail him. He had never labeled himself Gunner’s best friend, but it had always been implied. He didn’t look like the kind of boy to go home to vacant rooms and empty halls, but that’s because he had stopped going home. What’s the point when there’s no one welcoming him into the warmth? He matched the twins age at 17 and his swift movements and ability to be invisible made him an excellent thief.


  * **Bullet:** A fox. Personally I don’t see the importance of the small creature nor Gunner’s attachment to it. It acts more like a dog really, trotting after the boy in loyalty. He had received the animal from his mother when it wandered into the village 3 years ago. It took quickly to him and him to it. I believe the boy thought himself clever naming it Bullet in accordance to his nickname: Gun. He’s useless, the orange, white and black beast, but a part of Gunner’s shattered heart belongs to it.


  * **Thea Wick:** Thick brown hair always pulled into a messy bun with eyes to match. She is smart, not unlike her parents, and knows basically everything there is to know about technology. A loud mouthed 15 year old, I can tell you she’s not one to be bossed around.


  * **Soncha Hayes:** A small girl of 7 with wavy red hair and dark green eyes. She feels safe with her cousins and tends to stay hidden if she can. The attitude she presents was given to her by her mother while the softness imbedded in her nature was passed down by her father. With a sibling on the way, she follows Lu around like a Bullet to it’s Gun.


  * **Ryker Jace:** Now as you can see from the band of merry men before, one thing seems to be lacking: a pure, happy kid that strives to bring joy. So, may I present, Ryker. His hair he got from his father, dark and long, while his eyes follow his mother with a light brown. Only 6 years old, he sees no wrong with the world.



Though you are not yet aware of it, one introduction is missing. And arguably, it may be the most important to the boy. Now you are undoubtedly wondering, _why would you tell me about a fox and not the_ **_shadow_ ** _?_ And the answer is this: spoilers.

I’m tired of all this exposition, let’s just get right to the story, eh? I could start-no-how about?-I wonder-ah! How about a day before Gunner meets him? Yes, I can hear your whining. _Who’s ‘him’?_ Well, listen and you’ll find out.

Quick footnote: Gunner and his friends often trail the woods, sometimes hours away, in order to escape the town for a bit, which just happens to be what they were doing in the place I’d like to begin:

The earth silently shifted beneath the soles of his feet, a hardly noticeable granting of passage, and two distinct cracks of wood sounded in his ears and alerted his attention. He pushed down the instinctive bristle of skin and shook his head with a breathy chuckle. The reprimand climbed up his throat but he bit his tongue before it could escape. Gunner knew his companions all too well and stealth had never been their fortes. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and caught sight of Sam and Erik, their similar voices pitched with dispute floating back to him. He rolled his eyes and turned to the silent presence at his side. A breeze floated through the wild blond strands escaping past the band of his goggles. Riot’s eyes stared straight ahead of him, sometimes flickering to the sides as the boy took in every detail around him. His head jerked up as a bird sang to his neighbor and his attention turned to the sky. Gunner saw it before it happened and he jerked his arm out to catch the younger boy as his foot landed on a loose stone. Riot blinked dazedly up at Gunner and a small smile of gratitude bloomed across his face. Gunner nodded and righted the boy on his feet before returning his attention to the nature around him. The birdsong had turned into a chorus of cheeps and chirps without melody but not discordant, drowning out all thought of the village they’d left behind and allowing Gunner to immerse himself in the place he truly called home.

Laughter pealed through the air, cutting off the tranquility of the airy tune. Two tornados of dark curls and muscle blurred past the silent observers. The shorter of the twins stopped short and spun on his heel to issue Gunner and Riot a finger to his lips. Riot’s head tilted to the side but Gunner nodded in understanding: Erik’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous light as Sam continued to barrel through the trees with shouts of victory echoing behind him. The triumph in his voice turned to surprise as the ground gave out from under him and he disappeared from the other’s view.

Erik crowed with laughter and raced after his brother. The other boys increased their pace to follow in pursuit of curiosity. As they neared, they noticed an overabundance of leaves scattered across the forest floor that surrounded a small pit. They peered over the edge to see Sam, his head a foot or two below the soil and chest-deep in water.

Sam stared blankly above him until his eyes caught sight of his mirror image, red-faced and laughing heartily, and his own expression morphed into a glare. “Son of a bitch!” He shouted as dug his hands into the ground to pull himself up.

Erik feigned shock, mouth open and hand pressed to his chest. “Well. I never thought the world’s biggest mama’s boy would say _that_.” He laughed and jumped back from the low swing of his brother’s fist. “But I have to say, it took you long enough.”

Sam growled and heaved himself out of the hole, turning the ground around him to mud. He pushed himself to his feet and started towards his twin. Erik grinned and sprinted away, taking refuge behind the goggled boy.

“Erik!”

“C’mon, Sammy, you wouldn’t hurt Riot.” He grinned and crouched behind his human shield. Sam shot Riot a look, a request to move. “He’s like a puppy.” Sam took a step forward. “Plus Gunner would totally kick your ass if you killed his favorite.”

“I’m not killing Riot.”

“Who ever said Riot was the favorite?” He winked and shoved the shorter boy towards Sam and took off through the trees.

Sam raced after his brother, a smirk etched across his face, before Riot could catch his balance.

Gunner patted the younger boy’s shoulder. “I did.” Riot looked up at him curiously. “You _are_ my favorite.”

They shared a small grin that seemed to acknowledge their friends’ stupidity and ambled through the forest, following the sounds of the chase. A yelp shocked birds from their nests and Gunner and Riot passed through the greenery to see a lone figure standing with arms crossed over his chest.

Sam’s head was angled upward and the two newcomers followed his gaze to see a second boy dangling from the bough of a tree, his foot ensnared in rope oddly similar to the bear trappings used amongst the villagers.

“You aren’t the only one setting traps around here.” Sam grinned, subtle traces of success lacing his voice.

“No. But mine was better.” Erik mumbled as he swung slightly from the cord, his wild hair falling towards the ground.

“Oh really?”

“Yup.”

“So if we leave you up there you’ll be just fine?”

“Yup.” Erik nodded and mimicked his brother’s crossed arms though the others could see his face reddening.

“Must you always be morons?” Gunner spoke up as he leaned back against a tree, his voice stern but face lighted with amusement.

“Yup.” Erik grinned wickedly and jerked forward to swing the line.

“I think it’s in their DNA.” Riot mumbled, earning a chuckle from Gunner.

Gunner waved his hand up at the suspended boy. “Cut him down before he kills himself.”

“Gladly.” Sam smirked and hurled his knife at the rope, sending his twin to the earth with a yell followed by a small thump when Erik landed on his head.

“Motherfucker.” Erik grumbled and rubbed at his scalp.

“Now that’s just disgusting.” Sam grinned and offered his hand out to his brother.

Erik flashed Sam a matching grin and pulled himself up. “Now that we’re even, what’s next Murphy’s Law?”

The twins turned to Gunner for their next adventure, but his attention was trained on Riot, who was staring wide-eyed into the trees behind the twins. Their gaze danced between the thick green and the boy so fixated with it.

The sound of one of the twins stepping toward him elicited one word from the blond. “Trikru.”

Sam scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think-”

Riot ignored his words, now focusing on the leader. Gunner was watching him carefully causing him to nod back to the tree. The brunette accepted the silent instructions and examined the foliage. He hadn’t noticed it at first, the suffocation of green drowing the pale white. A vine was sewn into two black voids and it hung as a warning to those who dared ventured past this point.

He could hear Erik’s sharp breath let out with the half formed question. “Is that…”

“A skull.” He confirmed, moving closer to get a better look. There was a small knife driven into the base, cracks seeping throughout the humanoid shape. The jaw was attached by a smaller vine, one side broken so it was locked in an eternal scream.

The taller twin joined the leader by his side. “I didn’t think we went that far.”

Erik went to retrieve his brother’s thrown knife. “Sammy, the sun’s almost set. We’ve been out here for a good 5-6 hours. Especially if we’ve reached Trikru territory.” He noticed Gunner’s furrowed brow. “Yo, Murphy, we’re buddy-buddy with the Wood Clan. Ain’t nothing to fret about.”

Gunner seemed to almost growl at his naivety. “Erik, when’s the last time you saw this kind of warning?” The boy’s face dropped at the realization and the brunet turned back to stare into the haunted abyss. “Two years. Why now?” He shook off the unsettling thought with a sigh. “We should head back.”

“Good plan. ‘Cept we have no idea where we are. Or at least I don’t.” He looked to Sam to see the same lost look etched on his face.

Riot ripped his attention away from the skull and motioned upward. “Use Rainer.”

They all glanced upward, a disappointed groan falling from some of their lips when they saw the canopy completely covering the changing sky. Gunner instinctively turned back to the forest and resumed their walk, the three falling in step behind him. His eyes were constantly searching the view above him for a speck of singular light in the fading rays.

He pushed aside a wall of branches and stumbled into a clearing, the torn sky above them. He could clearly see Rainer (If you know only the Ark’s knowledge, you would call this Polaris) which pointed the way toward the village. He glanced back to advance his friends, but found them staring in horror. With a quirked brow he moved to stand beside them and take in the scene.

It was ordinary.  Maybe that was what was so horrible. It didn’t remember. The grass was a darkened green, the blood now washed out by the rain. The birds sang in the trees which were swaying with the light breeze; a contrast to the quiet, still air of two years ago.

Riot noticed something on the ground and hesitantly bent to pick it up. His hands tightened around the spear, a crimson stain still on the arrowhead. Sam lightly put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Probably just some Wood Clan hunting.” The blond nodded absently, his attention stolen by the weapon.

Erik had taken a few steps into the clearing, his back now to the trio. Gunner could hear the shaky words, “You don’t think that skull…”

“No, Erik.” He traced the boy’s steps to stand by his side. “They wouldn’t. It wasn’t Trikru, you know that.”

Nobody said anything. In fact, I can tell you, none of them saw what me and you might have. They saw the past. The bloodied field, the idle wind, the emptiness. I should explain, as you are well aware the coalition consists of 12 clans, the Nightwalkers - with an agreement to not join - are the 13th. In the past couple of years a 14th has seemed to rise. They've no official name, mainly referred to as Rogues. Their presence was small at first, going unnoticed by most. It was two years ago, when a small disturbance in the outer woods, first cursed their existence. Arkadia, by wish of Trikru and the threat of impending danger, sent some of their own to monitor their actions. Days passed. Then a week. Then two weeks. They heard nothing back and Kylo decided to investigate. The four boys you have been introduced to were adamant on going; some of their family being a part of the original group. What they found? A single clearing bathed in blood bereft of sound. No bodies were ever recovered, but everyone knew.

**A List of Stars:**

**Nathan Miller**

**Jasper Jordan**

**Emori**

**Drexel**

**Michael Slade**

**Sasha Slade**

**Emma Jace**

**Noah Blake**

Each boy lost someone that day. Arkadia felt the loss, they still do, and they soon will. Monty, without Miller and Jasper, went about his daily life as if it was a chore. He was plagued with nightmares, I heard his screams occasionally. Not alone in mourning Jasper, Riot had yet to take the goggles off since that day. He was a mentor to the young boy, a friend. Emori and Drexel, Gunner’s aunt and uncle. Kylo had spent the night searching for her sister in the sky, Murphy sitting silently with her until Gun had come to join her. They sat, finding the light of the once drifter and her husband. The boy talked to me, in his head mind you, but I heard him. I should note, a crack had formed. In fact, 8 cracks had formed, but his heart wouldn't shatter. Not yet. Michael and Sasha Slade, husband and wife, father and mother. You know, Riot wasn’t always a quiet kid. No, he laughed, he joked, he was even the loudest if you could believe it. He lost too much that day. Emma Jace, Ryker’s mom (the happiest boy, if you remember). I watched Carter’s transformation from a cold hearted boy into the man who stood up for a  blonde, beaten grounder. He never thought himself strong enough to raise a kid, but Emma always said he’d make the best dad. Now, he had to raise Ryker by himself. She didn’t deserve this. None of them did. And where I’ll end: the youngest of the group. Noah Blake. 20 years old, the eldest of the Blake brothers. He had volunteered for the assignment. Though I’ll never indulge this information to the twins, or their friends, he was the last to die. He fought for the others, but he was just a boy. What a responsibility, huh? I remember his last thought. ‘They’re going to get into so much trouble without me.’ I’ll let you guess to whom he was referring.

It was a broken day. Broken hearts, families, hope. Some held onto blame; others held onto the emptiness. Erik never did forgive his mom for letting Noah go. Sam never forgave Noah for going. Riot sat in front of his house, devoid of any one in it, everyday. After a month, he found himself incapable of even entering it. Gunner had watched the deterioration of his friend up until this point and issued him a new home. His. Riot now roomed with the Murphys’, welcomed with warm, open arms.

Time doesn’t heal, it just replaces memories.

But the clearing brought them back like a wave, and they were all drowning. Gunner blinked away the red liquid, the pain in his chest, the engraved image. He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go.”

He followed Rainer’s light from the field and waited to hear the two sets of loud feet behind him and feel the quiet presence beside him. He glanced once at Riot to see the spear still in the firm hands. The blond boy stopped suddenly, a roar ripping from his throat as he turned around to throw the object back into the uncaring cemetery.

The twins and leader watched as it landed in the center. Sam’s eyes narrowed at movement just beyond the spear in the thicket of trees. “Did you see…” He trailed off to take a step forward.

“Yeah.” Was his brother’s only response. They looked back at the two to find Gunner’s sword out and a small throwing knife in Riot’s hand.

Sam took a cautious step toward the disturbance, jumping back when a chipmunk scattered down the tall bark. He let out a loud sigh, bending over to place his hands on his knees. “Damn.” He ignored the fast pace of his heart, merely dismissing the previous fear as the small animal. He glanced up to see his brother with a similar look and Riot replacing the knife to his side. “Anyone believe in ghosts?”

Erik rewarded him a slight chuckle and lightly knocked his head. “C’mon, Orion’ll kill us if we’re not back by day-break.”

Sam noticed the bitterness submerged in their mother’s name and shook his head, but refused to correct the hate-filled word. They joined the goggled boy by the edge of the tree line, all waiting for their leader.

Gunner’s blade was still in his hand and his eyes were locked on the thicket. He glanced once at the group, dismissing them back into the forest. “Give me a minute.”

Sam nodded, believing that he was thinking of the fallen, and pulled his brother along. Riot’s feet refused to move, his body tense in suspicion. Erik grabbed his shirt to yank him back past the divide and threw his arm around his shoulder, changing the subject to a lighter tone.

When he was sure his friends were far enough away, Gunner approached the spear, his eyes fixed on the trees, and plucked it from the ground. He pulled his arm back as if to throw it and listened. The leaves rustled under fearful feet and a small movement could be seen in the intense green. With a half cocked smirk, Gunner dropped the spear and stepped even closer to the mystery. Finding a patch of dirt, he made a show of standing in front of it, his blade lowered to the ground. Two swift movements with the sword and he had replaced it back in its sheath. His green eyes seemed to be piercing the foliage, as if he knew something his friends didn’t. The movement wasn’t a chipmunk. It was a shadow.

It had been watching the small group in silent suspicion. The leader had caught it’s attention quick enough. The way his verdant eyes examined everything and glistened with the same life the forest held. His steps brought no sound and his breath mingled with the wind in a quiet rush. The other boys followed him willingly, the two loudest only speaking to him a few times. At first, the shadow only thought three was their company, but soon realized two shared the same face. It had never seen twins before, but what really surprised it was their laughter. Before they had reached the clearing, they were cackling, casting insults back and forth. This had even brought an amused smile onto the leader’s face. It wasn’t sure when it had last heard it’s own laughter. It had only caught sight of the blond shortly after he had entered the clearing. There was a shyness about him; the kind of boy who could hide away and be perfectly content. But no matter what the shadow witnessed, it’s gaze always landed back on the leader. He was alone now, eyes boring into the thick cover of trees. It thought about coming forward or even retreating back, but curiosity had captured it’s feet and coaxed it into compliance.

It watched the boy glance up at the melting sky, something catching on the golden green and darkening his face. His eyes ghosted over the trees quickly before a stern order roared from his throat and he retreated from the clearing.The shadow could hear worried replies from the group already emerged in the wood before their voices were faded with the wind. Once sure it was alone, It took a step through the divide, cautiously moving toward the dirt patch. Stopping in front of the mound, pale blue eyes stared down at the foreign marking with a furrowed brow. The boy had drawn an ‘X’ in the earth. It stared after his path in confusion before turning to see what had stolen the boy’s attention from the ground. The shadow’s body stiffened with chilled blood upon seeing the billowing, tainted-white smoke. The last, fighting rays tried to split the large cloud, only casting a weak outline on the unmoving tornado. Hesitant red smoke streamed into the sky in acknowledgement of the white beast’s secret.

There was a new Heda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I understand if you haven't read the first 'novel' so if some characters are confusing you or you don't understand what a Nightwalker is or the 'dead people are stars and they tell their stories' thing, feel free to ask me whatever you like in a comment and I'll explain :D
> 
> -Z


	2. Then the Kingdom will Fall

Even the strongest flower will eventually wilt. Petals fall one at a time, swept into a dance with the wind. Vibrant colors faded with life - a life untouched by hands that would pluck it. At least, until the very end.

Lexa made mistakes. I’ve yet to meet one such flower that hasn’t, but out of mistakes comes knowledge. I was before her time, but I watched her blossom into a wise leader. One who strived for peace, for a united world. She made mistakes. Growing old was one of them.

A flower weakens before it’s fall. A fragile beauty ignored by all but the wolf’s foot. Crushed until only dust remains of the faded painting. The wind seeks out these ashes of what once was and carries them up into the what will always be.

Yes, Lexa made mistakes. A petal fell from her eyes each time, but made the remaining brighter. In the end, she had one petal left, but don’t get me wrong, it could light up the whole night’s sky. Her place is among us now, her velvet laugh occasionally cutting across the lighted ceiling. I heard a whisper once, a small _I’m waiting for you_ that reached my ears. Though I can’t confirm it, I believe it was her promise to another flower still radiating a broken beauty on the ground.

We were silent when she arrived, a gleam of respect to greet the commander. I’ve heard she casted a sad glance toward the empire of white smoke rising in a last farewell. How I craved to tell her of the boy who would finish her mission, but I was too far away. Perhaps I could have amended her fear, brought a smile onto the face which hadn’t seen one in two decades.

But the smoke rose, red following. Feet dashed through the forest. Hours past. A rusted silver gate came into view and opened at the sight of four teens sprinting its way. Its arms outstretched as if welcoming them home, closing with a worried thud when it saw their ragged breathing.

Gunner brushed the sweat drenched bangs from his face, alert green eyes searching for his mother. His brow furrowed when he found her beside a horse exchanging hushed words with his father.

She glanced toward the gate, a small smile stretching her face when she saw the out of breath boy approaching. “Heya, skaifaya.”

The boy shook his head, ignoring the greeting. “Mom, the smoke - there’s smoke -”

Kylo pressed her hand to Gunner’s cheek as he struggled to fill his weak breathing with words. “I know. There is a new Heda. We were about to ride for Polis, ensure they mean no harm and pay respect to Lexa.” The woman glanced over her shoulder, her son noticing Otan and Likho saddling up for the first time. “The scouts had seen the smoke earlier, I figured to wait for your return before heading out.”

Gunner nodded slightly. “Can I go with you?”

She glanced to her left at Murphy before shaking her head. “Gunner, I need you to stay here.” With a small chuckle, she busied herself with petting the horse. “I actually need you to stay out of trouble.”

“So you’re leaving me with him?” He casted a smirk towards his father who donned one of his own. “Good idea.”

“Hey, I _never_ get into trouble.” John ruffled his son’s hair with a chuckle.

Gunner cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “John Murphy - the arson of the ark.”

“Ha. Ha-”

“Who also fell in love with a ‘grounder’ when they were the ‘enemy’. Who also punched Caspian. Who also got locked up in a bunker for three months. Who also-”

John threw his arm around Gunner’s shoulder, pulling him into a fake choke hold. His son’s laughter drew his own from his throat. “You should be thankful for the first one or you wouldn’t be here.”

Kylo had been watching them with a smile. “Actually, John, he should be thankful I did not pick Macallan instead.”

He scoffed. “Like you would have picked _Macallan._ ” Ky raised her brow in a suggestive ‘try me’ causing his jaw to drop. “But he _sings_ and he’s so nice it’s annoying.”

She only shrugged. “Might be a nice change.”

Murphy let go of Gunner to pull his wife into his chest. He tilted her chin up with a smirk. “But, beautiful, it’s not a perfect couple if they haven’t tried to kill each other at least once.” Her green eyes tried to pierce his with a glare, but the beam on her face broke any power it would have. He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, lifting her slightly from the ground.

Gunner rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the bustle of nervous energy surrounding the family. A flash of bright orange caught his eye and he focused on the small figure of his aunt. She stood a few feet away with her husband, who had left his sister’s side with an awkward expression a few moments ago. Now he stood with an even more lost expression as Lu’s hands flew about her and her face tinted an alarmingly similar shade to her hair. Otan’s face fell as he reached out for her but she turned away from him sharply and stomped towards their home with a string of swears echoing back to the stricken man.

Gunner frowned and made his way to his uncle, who was pulling at his hair in frustration as he stared after his wife. Gunner cleared his throat as he reached Otan’s side. “So….trouble in paradise?”

The man turned to his nephew with a tired smile. “Gun. Hey. Good to see you back. How was your little adventure?”

“Oh, you know. I had to babysit the twins and then I stabbed a few people. The usual. So, why’s Lu even more red than usual?”

Otan chuckled and grinned at his smirking nephew. “You’re as bad as your parents.”

“You say that like it’s not a compliment. Now stop changing the subject. Lu.”

He shook his head and tugged at his hair. “I don’t know. She was fine until I told her I was going with your mom to see the new heda. Then my fireball gave me her famous cold shoulder. She’s never…” He sighed and forced his mouth into a smile. “You know what they say about pregnant women and their hormones.”

Gunner scrutinized his uncle for a few moments as he searched for words. Kylo’s voice rang through the village, ordering the horsemen to the gate. Otan’s eyes darted towards his house as he clenched and unclenched his hands in agitation.

Gun followed his gaze and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Otan’s face brightened. “Thanks, Gun.”

The younger boy shrugged before walking towards his uncle’s house. “Just go before my mom starts screaming.” He didn’t turn back to acknowledge any response from the man but proceeded down the trail towards the small cottage famous amongst the youth. He paused at the door, expecting to hear the usual squeals of laughter replaced by shrieks or sobs, but the light voices of Soncha and Ryker drifted through the wood. He opened the door and nearly had his legs taken out by a flash of orange hair.

The little girl looked up at him and giggled, “Hey, Gun,” before darting outside.

“Soncha! Give it back!” A dark-haired boy whined as he tumbled after the girl, ignoring the warrior in the doorway.

The ginger spun on her toes to face her pursuer and then shoved something in her mouth with a smug, puffy-cheeked smirk. The boy barreled toward her as she zipped behind the house. Gunner laughed and moved to follow when a short wall slammed into his legs and tiny arms wrapped around his knees.

“Gun!” The teen looked down to see the bright blue eyes of his little brother shining up at him with a light only rivaled by his smile.

The brunet grinned and ruffled the blond locks. “Hey, Ni. Where’s Aunt Lu?”

“Soncha!” followed a squeal of laughter and the little redhead burst into the room. Her eyes landed on Gun and she moved to use him as a human shield when two hands seized her and lifted her into the air. Lu stood in the doorway to the kitchen, mercilessly tickling her miniature replica as the young girl flailed wildly. The woman hugged her daughter tightly to her chest, pointedly ignoring the requests for release from the latter. Soncha wiggled from her mom’s grasp and landed to the floor with a thud before taking off with a stream of giggles trailing behind her.

Lu’s eyes followed after her and her lips curved into a smile which only widened when the boy in the door caught her attention. “Hey, Mini-Murphy, how kind of you to grace us with your presence.” She gave a wicked grin and a wink as she curtsied awkwardly due to her swollen stomach. She held her hands out to him. “Come be a gentleboy and help your aunt sit down as you tell the epic tale of your latest adventure.”

Gun shook his head but helped her ease into the chair. “I’m not here for that, Lu.”

“Oh c’mon. Indulge me. I can barely leave this fucking house-oh shit-” She looked around frantically for children and sent Niron a sheepish smile. “Oh, wait, you’re John’s kid. You’ve heard worse.”

“I’m here about Otan.”

Lu’s face darkened as she slammed back against her chair. Her voice flattened into a warning. “Niron. Go in the kitchen.”

The little boy frowned and glanced between his brother and aunt. “But you said I’ve heard worse.”

Her lips turned up in a ghastly smile. “Jonathan will _never_ beat me at swearing. Now go.” Niron looked to Gun, who nodded in approval, and hurriedly shuffled out the door. Lu’s eyes snapped to Gunner and her voice mirrored the gesture. “What.”

The warrior met her glare unflinchingly as he took the seat opposite her. “Otan thinks you’re mad at him because he’s leaving. I think there’s more.”

Lu snorted and averted her eyes. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say Dr. Phil.”

Gun’s brow furrowed in confusion but he shrugged, deciding it was just the ravings of his crazy pregnant aunt. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get her attention, but she was stubborn and the call of the forest tested his patience. “He’s worried about you.”

“Then at least the bastard can empathize.”

“He’s left before. What’s different this time?”

She bit her lip and stared pointedly at the floor. “This isn’t your business, Gun.”

“Is it the new Heda? The baby? Because he’ll be fine. He always is.”

Her head jerked up and he met two pools of blue fire. “You can’t know that.”

“Lu-”

“The Rogues are still out there! And we don’t know this new heda! She could be evil! Just because Lexa’s spirit chose or some hippy grounder shit doesn’t mean she’s gonna like us! He’s my _husband_. I have every right to worry.”

“My mom-”

“And let’s not forget if he dies, I’m left with a 7 year old monster and this,” she waved her hand wildly at her stomach, “ _thing_ to raise. Do you think I’ll be emotionally stable enough for that? I’ll have just lost the love of my life!” She wrapped her hands in her tangled red strands. “And I won’t even have my drinking buddy to comfort me because that shitface _took him too_. Likho is mine dammit! Those two fuckers left me alone! They know how I am with that and these goddamn hormones just make everything worse.” She pushed herself from her chair. Gunner jumped up to help her but she smacked his hand away. “I can do it my fucking self. I’m not broken.” Her voice cracked at the end and she blinked rapidly as she struggled to her feet.

“Lu. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to find out what’s wrong. I’m-” She held up a hand to silence him and began to pace the room.

“You know what pisses me off? He didn’t even talk to me about it. Didn’t even consider how his pregnant wife would feel about him leaving. Who fucking does that? Clotpoles. And you know who’s a clotpole?”

“I don’t know what a clotpole is but I’m going to guess Otan?”

“Finally! Someone agrees with me! And don’t say that word, your mother will kill me in the most painful way her twisted mind can think of. Maybe I should ask her to handle Otan.”

“Lu. I know you’re mad, but a dead husband is exactly what you said you didn’t want.”

“But he-”

“Loves you.”

“Then why would he _leave_?”

“I don’t like repeating myself, Lu.”

The ginger paused and turned to him with a strange look in her eyes. Before either of them could speak, the door burst open and Soncha, her hair spotted with frosting, ran to her mother and held up a gooey ball. “Look, mommy! I made you a cupcake!”

Lu knelt down and brushed her daughter’s hair back. “I think you made _you_ a cupcake.”

Soncha giggled. “No, that’s Riot.”

Gunner and Lu exchanged confused looks as the girl doubled over in laughter. They turned and saw a figure coated in multicolored goop. It wiped at its face and a glaring Riot emerged from the mess.

Gun bit down on his lip to stifle his laughter. “That’s a nice look you got there, cupcake. Pink really suits you.”

Riot’s scowl intensified but he glanced to the pile of frosting in his hand and his mouth morphed into a smirk. Gunner’s eyes widened and he ducked just in time to avoid the flying ball of sugar. It splattered on the wall and Lu began to shout. The brunet sprinted out the door before another shot could be fired. Riot moved to pursue but Lu caught his collar, halting him in the doorway as he watched his friend disappear down the road.  

Gunner threw his hood up to block the rays just starting to peek out from the horizon. He noticed the gate closed, the horsemen gone. The likelihood of receiving permission to leave was slim and he decided not to test his suspicion on the matter. He would rather explain his actions _after_ he had done them than his intent beforehand. The brunet broke from the path, glancing around for witnesses, and darted past houses toward the side of the gate. Before he got too far, Gun stopped to whistle, the thought of at least one friend with him a comfort. He waited until his efforts awarded him a small animal. Bullet happily weaved his way in between the boy’s legs to look up at him with a panting smile.

Gun chuckled, petting the fox and moving toward the break in the fencing. They had noticed it years ago, Sam cleverly bending the metal so it looked untouched. Now the brunet picked up the animal and pushed back the linked iron until it was wide enough for his frame. He set Bullet down and carefully moved the barrier back into place. He cast a quick glance around and, with a breath of relief at finding no witnesses, he strolled towards the welcoming boughs of the forest. Before he could step past the first root, he heard two sets of pounding feet. He groaned, recognizing the slightly differing treads immediately, and turned to see the twins bounding over to him from the now gaping hole in the fence.

Sam skidded to a halt a few feet in front of the leader while Erik crashed into his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You know,” Sam paused to catch his breath.

Erik rolled his eyes and continued. “Everyone knows your adventure whistle.”

“Everyone. Even Lu tried to come out.” The brothers chuckled, oblivious to the cold stare of the green-eyed boy.

“So.” Gun shrugged the arm off his shoulder.

“So we’re coming with.” Erik leaned against a nearby trunk because he obviously had difficulty supporting himself.

“Obviously.” Sam moved to mimic his brother but he found there was only air behind him so he flailed his arms in a pathetic attempt to regain balance.

“We’re your knights. The prince needs our protection.”

“Then the kingdom will fall.” Gun looked at them disdainfully before turning back to the trees.

Sam and Erik traded furrowed brows and jogged to the leader’s side. The shorter one elbowed the taller in the ribs. “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I don’t think he’s ever found the right side.”

“Hey, Gun, do you sleep on the left? Maybe you should switch it up sometimes.”

“If you can’t figure it out, just hold up your hands and make an L.”

“Yeah, like for loser.”

The oldest tried his best to ignore them but that was like hitting a wasp nest and hoping not to get stung. He sighed and pulled his hood low over his eyes. “Go home.”

“Why?”

“You’re the ones that named me ‘Prince’. Aren’t knights supposed to _obey_ their prince?”

“Well, yeah, when he’s not shit.” Erik smiled widely and caught a branch with his face. He rubbed his cheek and scowled at the barely noticeable shaking of Gun’s shoulders. “You’re proving my point, Your Hiney-ness. So what’s so special that we can’t come?”

The brunet stopped short and turned to look at them. “A lot of things, but this one’s none of your business. Now go home.”

“But Gun, home is where the heart is and my heart will always be with you.” Erik batted his eyelashes and twirled the short strands of his hair around his finger.

The hooded boy looked to Sam and gave a solemn nod. “Go ahead.”

He grinned and released a branch that thumped Erik on the back of the head.

“You assholes.” The injured muttered and reached for the side of his belt.

A faint rustling of leaves alerted their attention and the three turned so their backs formed a small triangle as they stared defensively into their surroundings. They tightened their grips on their weapons, readying for an attack, when Riot stepped from the shadows with a grace almost as perfect as the Murphys’ (minus John).

The blond blinked at the tense forms in front of him. “Adventure whistle?”

The twins relaxed with a sigh but Gunner only frowned. “No. Home.”

Sam and Erik gasped, the former’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Even the precious scribe isn’t allowed? This is madness!”

“Why does the stupid fox get to come?” Bullet nipped at Erik’s pants, earning a yelp from the boy.

Gunner called the fox back and petted his ears. “Bullet doesn’t talk.”

“That doesn’t explain Riot.”

Gunner sighed. “Look, it’s just something I have to do. Alone.”

“Since when?”

“Can’t you at least tell us?”

“This isn’t fair!”

The leader tuned out the twins’ complaints but Riot’s voice rang in his ears like a bell. “What is it, Gun?”

He swallowed uncomfortably and turned away from the inquisitive eyes, but he could still feel them boring through his skull. “I...I saw a shadow.”

“Well big whoop. So why the secret mission?”

“I saw it in the clearing, Erik, and I saw it before. It was following us, watching us. I think it was a Rogue.”

The taunts died in the boy’s throat. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I left an X. I’m going back to look for an answer.”

“Well we’re sure as hell not letting you go alone now.” Sam spoke up, the slight crack in his voice revealing his unease. “We can’t let you fight one of those bastards by yourself.”

Erik nodded. “They’ll cheat and then the only thing left of you will be-” His voice failed him as images of a bloodstained field blurred his vision.

Gun smiled grimly. “That’s why I didn’t want you to come. You shouldn’t have to see that place again. And I’m not letting any of you idiots die on my watch.” His gaze focused on Sam and Erik, who suddenly found a great interest in the dirt. “Now I’m going to say this one more time and you’re going to listen: Go. Home.”

The three shifted uncomfortably, all unwilling to leave and reluctant to continue with their friend. Gunner relaxed back into his normal stance and turned his back on them, thinking the matter settled.

“No. We’re coming with you.” Riot’s eyes blazed with determination and his stance oozed pride.

“Yeah, fuck that, man. You're not going anywhere without us.” Sam shoved his brother’s shoulder and looked to him for agreement.

“You aren't King yet, and a Prince is shit without his knights.”

The leader opened his mouth to argue but the strange seriousness set about them silenced his tongue and he nodded reluctantly after a moment. “Alright, but it's my challenge and it stays that way.” His friends nodded their approval and Gunner jerked his head towards a gap in the trees. “Follow me.”

 


	3. The Boy Born with War in his Eyes

Gunner kept count of the pairs of feet following him. Three, sometimes four if Bullet found them in the dense green before getting bored and bounding off. Despite the thick air that came in waves of suffocation, his friends never left. Though, the forest was given no echo of laughter to share with the wildlife. None of the boys even talked except for an occasional ‘this way’.

They passed a small pond of water which earned a growl from Sam and the first, even if slight, smile from Erik. As they neared the haunted warning, a chill ran up Gunner’s spine. He pulled the hood further over his eyes despite the hidden rays of light. Their paces had all slowed as they approached the tree taunted by a remembrance of man. They stopped in front of it, a sharp intake of breath coming from Riot when he noticed the different picture from before.

Erik stiffened as he followed the blond’s gaze. “What the fuck?”

Golden-green eyes narrowed at the broken vine and shattered white that lay under it. Gunner was the first to break from the trance, and knelt before the broken skull. “Someone crushed it under their foot.”

“Not _someone_.” They all looked to Sam. “Rogues.” Pale faced, he pointed toward a neighboring tree. Messy white writing occupied once pure bark.

**Em ste soncha, oso na zog raun kom trikova.**

“She is light, we strike from the shadows.” The leader backed away, his hand now on the hilt of his blade.

Erik scoffed with his arms crossed. “The real mystery here is how the hell they fit all that on a tree.” He furrowed a brow and scratched his head. “And _why_ a tree?”

Sam held an abrasive tone; a lack of sarcasm in an otherwise joke. “They probably didn’t have any bodies to carve it in.”

Gun stiffened and growled a warning. He ignored the reprimand clawing up his throat and turned his heel in the dirt, listening to the crunch of rusted dust under his boot. Is that what the skull had sounded like? He doubted it. He could only imagine the thunderous crack the ghost had made in it’s last moment of existence.

A metallic scream ripped the idle air and sliced the groups roaming thoughts as Gunner spun the blade around his hand. He could hear worried inquiries from his friends; a buzz in his ears. When Sam went to calm the boy now harsh of breath, Gunner shoved him away, an angered roar slipping into the air. He ran past Riot and into the shrouded greens to where they all knew the clearing to be.

Erik cupped his hands around his mouth in an attempt to reach the enraged teen. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you to never run with a sword?” When no response came, he sighed and dropped his hands. “Orion couldn’t tell me enough.”

“That’s because you with any weapon is dangerous.” He paused to glance around. “Let alone adding velocity to the equation.” Sam held an amused smile that quickly morphed to a frown when he could no longer hear the leader’s steps.

His twin had also noticed the absence of sound and only half-heartedly replied, “Yeah, well math never was my thing.” Taking a few steps to his right, Erik’s hand slid to the knife on his belt. “Gunner?”

“Odon hir.” The stern voice reverberated through the treetops earning a relieved sigh from the three remaining boys. They had begun to track the echo when they stumbled upon the eldest only a few feet in the clearing. Gunner’s hand was out to stall their advancement, Bullet beside him with his ears laid back. “Kefa.”

“Did you get an answer?” Sam kept his focus on the dirt mound instead of the memories. When the brunet shook his head, a silent theory choking the air, the three responded by pulling out their weapons.

Gunner brushed some of his bangs from his face with a sigh. “They left a footprint. Nothing more.”

“Would you say this footprint was particularly _Rogue-y_?” When he received only a glare, Erik threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Just asking.”

It was then a twig snapped from somewhere beyond the thick green. The boys tensed immediately, Riot’s bow now armed with an arrow, but still to his side. Sam’s chuckle was broken, “S’probably a chipmunk, right Gun?”

When the forest had gone back to it’s tranquil quietness, Gunner found himself wanting to agree, but the beast by his side refused. The fox had been monitoring the footprint in the dirt, the scent once faded out by hours of wilderness had now re-emerged. A low, guttural growl came from the fox putting the Nightwalkers back on alert. An arrow was now pointed toward the thick wall of trees and _all_ eyes were watching the creature attentively. Bullet’s ears had remained back, the snarl lifting the curtain of the furry muzzle and showing sharp teeth. His body kept low to the ground, small steps to ensure pouncing was still an available option.  

Gunner whistled at the beast, calling it back to his side. The other three in his company looked at him hesitantly as he neared the source of sound. The sun glistened on the raised blade which he held off to the side. Each step a cautious choice, he addressed the shadow he knew was staring back. “Ai nou lufa sich au. (I don’t want any trouble.)”

Erik snorted, “Spicha. (Liar.)”

He was expecting another glare when the brunet glanced over his shoulder at him, but he found instead the princely facade broken by a smirk which was accompanied by a quiet chuckle. The sword suspended in a peaceful gesture quickly flashed its mocking, jagged-toothed smile as the boy wielding it threw it in the air only to catch it with the other hand and launch it into the green void.

He heard the bite of metal as it sank its jaws into a tree; a trick his father had taught him. A low hiss had sounded simultaneously and the shadow staggered into the clearing, a tight grip on one of its arms. The wind picked up then, sweeping back the dark blue hood of the stranger.

**The boy born with war in his eyes.**

The battle of oceans and seas. That’s what Gunner noticed first. Pale, blue eyes defiantly  piercing the tattered, onyx hood in search of a person, but he saw only a ghost. If war knows one thing, it’s death. Without adjusting his attention from the leader, he had noticed the arrow pointed at his head, the throwing knives resting in one of the mirror’s hands while a blade lie in the other’s. He was also aware of the warm liquid and sharp pain traveling down his left arm. The flying sword had caught him by surprise, allowing it to mock his reflexes. The one now standing with crossed arms had thrown it - the ghost. The black, protective cowl masked his features, his steely voice the only thing that broke the barrier. How the injured boy yearned to hide as he did, but his veil was torn - light flooded the darkness where he hid and now they were staring at him. He had raked back, blond hair, though some of the strands had fallen in front of his light azure eyes. The sky blue of one was brought out by the dark purple and green that surrounded it in a bruise. There was a cut on his cheek and part of his lip had been broken open. A scythe hung on his hip and the left arm of his hoodie was darker than the rest, his fingers having turned red to accompany it.

He watched as one of the twins opened his mouth to suggest something, but was ultimately cut off by the hooded figure. “Em ste nou Rogue. (He’s not a Rogue.)” He furrowed his brow at the accusation (though it went unsaid) and noticed the other half of the duo begin to question him before undergoing the same fate. “Nou bianco. (No white.)” The twins backed off the leader. The injured boy could feel the sheltered eyes boring into his own, questions going unasked for the more important. “Yu soulou? (You alone?)”

When he refused to answer, the boy with throwing knives clicked his tongue to earn the attention. “Chon yu bilaik? (Who are you?)”

The boy stared at the four weighing his options. They weren’t Rogues if they were wary he was. With a sigh, he straightened his back and spoke out. “Ai laik Finn kom Trigeda. (I am Finn from Wood Clan.)” He watched the leader quickly glance to the boy to his left, the sun now lifting the veil slightly on his mouth. He seemed to silently repeat his name in questioning, but the other boy only shrugged with a confused glance to the others.

A shriek broke the hooded boy’s trance and spun him around to look toward the boy with throwing knives. “Ah, shit! Fuck! Get off me!” He was frantically waving his arm around. When he finished with a deep sigh, his guilty brown eyes raised to meet the infuriated leader. “Sorry, spider.”

“You speak English?” Finn’s gaze was divided between the four of them. He noticed the black hood tilt slightly at his words before nodding hesitantly. “Ok, my turn. Who are you?”

“To which of us are you referring?” Spider boy held a distrustful pose, but a challenging smirk. His shoulders seemed to sink slightly when he saw the warning look under the hood. With an audible groan, the leader gave a small nod of acceptance to the other three. “I’m Erik.”

“Sam.” The other half of the mirror slowly lowered the blade in his hand.

The blond bowman gave a last questioning glance toward his friend. He could see the eyes hidden to the stranger and though they screamed caution, there was a promise of safety. “Riot.”

The pale blue landed on the hood once again. Though oblivious to the smirk hidden in shadow, he heard it in his words. “You said you were of Wood Clan?” He didn’t respond, there was no use. “I have a feeling they wouldn’t be as quick to claim you.” Finn became conscious of his bruised and beaten face, lowering it to the ground slightly.

His jaw locked as he raised his head again, a gleam of rage in the crashing blue. “And what clan would claim you?”

Without a single movement from the leader, Erik stepped forward to answer. “SheidgedaKru.” The twin saw the blank look and cocked a brow. “Nightwalkers?”

“Never heard of you.”

Sam replaced the blade into its sheathe and scratched the back of his head. “We live west of here. About 5 hours walk.”

The hand on Finn’s injured arm clenched and a callous laugh left his throat. “You mean the murderers and thieves who refused to join the coalition?”

Erik only returned the venomous words with a smile. “Oh, you _have_ heard of us.”

He ignored the two, recognising their childlike manner and lack of a long enough attention span to answer his questions. Once again finding the black void, he noticed the other boy’s arms uncrossed as he was petting the fox by his side. “If you really live that far, what are you doing out here?”

He shooed the beast to Riot and stood. “What are you?”

Finn seemed to stare him down before adjusting the hand on his arm and looking down at the wound. He grunted when he replaced the pressure and redirected the conversation. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I have no intention to.” The hooded figure slowly began to walk to the dirt mound. “Unless,” He paused, the smirk still laced with his words. “You win.”

“Win?” Finn followed the trail to the marking he had seen earlier in the dawn. “Does this have to do with that X?”

He watched all three boys (he suspected the leader as well) furrow their brows at him. Erik just raised his hand to run it down it face. “I swear all the dim ones come from Wood Clan.”

“Erik, he didn’t even know who our people were, did you really expect him to understand the challenge?”

He rolled his eyes at his brother. “Shut up, Sam. I saw the look on your face, you were shocked too.”

“Blake.” The reprimand came for both of them causing them to quiet, but not before sticking their tongues out at each other. The hooded-figure shifted the dirt over the marking with his foot. “It’s reserved for a challenge. A fight. The one who draws the X is considered the initiator and has more to lose. If the challenger accepts, they finish the drawing with a line in the middle. Usually, amongst our people, it is a simple fight. Nothing more than a scar to show the loser. But, with warring clans, it’s to the death.”

Finn’s snarl received no reaction. “I bet you lose a lot of people then.”

Sam had gone to coax Riot into dropping the arrow when he turned with a glare.“If we did, then we wouldn’t be known as the ‘murderers’, would we?”

The stranger nodded, “You’re right, I was incorrect.” He waited until a satisfied look passed both twins’ faces. “You’re not known as murderers, just the murdered.” He had caught all the attention and made a show of motioning to the clearing around him. “It was here, wasn’t it? 8 villagers from a neighboring clan - a clan to the west - were slaughtered by Rogues, the only evidence a blood soaked field.” A horrified look stole away Riot’s stoic face, Sam avoided the pale eyes, Erik’s hands were now balled into fists, and the leader’s shoulders had gone rigid. “Maybe you’re not as good at fighting as you thought.”

A crack filled the air as Erik’s fist met Finn’s jaw. The force pushed him to the ground as a groan left his throat. He covered his face, waiting for the next sting of pain, but felt nothing. He heard the steely voice, a hint of amusement evident, call back the livid boy. “Erik, he didn’t finish the drawing.” Cautiously, Finn lifted his arms to see a black muzzle in his face. He scattered back, sitting up as the fox stalked closer. It took a moment, but the laid back ears popped up and his tail started to wag. The boy recognised a chuckle and found the hood kneeling beside the animal. “You’re useless, Bullet.” The sun was back to shedding light on his mouth, which donned a knowing smile. Of what, Finn couldn’t figure out. “As for you, Finn,” He said the name as if it held an inside joke. “I’m not convinced.” The blond watched him stand back up to tower over him. He turned to his friends, “How long since we were last in the Wood Clan camp?”

Sam carefully watched his brother who was stewing beside Riot, the goggled boy trying to distract him. The twin sighed and scratched the back of his head at the question. He saw the worried look on the stranger's face and a mischievous smile played on his lips. “Too long.”

“What?” Finn and Erik practically yelled out together. The brown-eyed boy scowled at the injured one before addressing the leader. “You want to go back _with him_?”

Finn shook his head. “No wa-”

“Shut it, mokskwoma.” The twin dismissed the stranger, turning his attention back onto the hooded figure. “You’re supposed to be the level headed one. _You’re_ the one supposed to keep _me_ out of trouble and you want to go back with him? You know what? Go ahead. Have fun getting yourself killed.” He turned to walk away before growling and pivoting on his heel. “I’ll come back in a few days to look for your skull. That is, if there’s anything left to look for.”

“Erik!” Sam hit his arm in protest, but he swatted him off to search for a reaction in the leader.

There was a soft sigh before he responded. “It’s okay to be afraid, Erik. I understand. Sam, take your brother and Riot, and get them back to camp. Our camp. Make sure they’re safe and keep an eye out for Rogues.”

Erik’s shoulders dropped and he stared helplessly at his friend. The leader turned back to Finn who continued to shake his head. “I’m not taking you back to my camp.”

“I know.” A small chuckle escaped his throat when he saw the stranger’s furrowed brow. “I’m taking you back.” He grabbed his uninjured arm and pulled him up. “I still remember the way.”

Finn shook out of his grasp. “Then why the fuck do you need me?”

He shrugged, “Entertainment.”

“I thought that’s why you had us.” He turned to find Erik visibly calmer with the other two by his side. “Wood Clan always did have better food.”

“Dare you to tell mom that.” Sam brushed his hair back with a smile.

His brother rolled his eyes and motioned to Finn. “Whatever, just, keep him away from me.”

“Gladly.” The blond spit back before being turned around and pushed forward. He glanced back at the onyx hood, quirking his brow. “You never did mention your name. So, what is it?”

It seemed the leader saved the smirk for him, the sun happily illuminating the crooked smile. “You tell me.” Finn chuckled with his own grin, but remained silent as they began to walk through the woods.

Sam had noticed the blade stuck in the tree and called ahead. “Hey, Gun, your sword.”

Gunner glanced toward where he knew the crushed skull to be. “Leave it.” When they had continued on their trek, he could feel Finn’s eyes on him. The blue seemed to fight the questions in his head and he clutched his arm tighter. With a groan, the brunet stopped causing the rest to halt in their tracks. “Erik.” When the boy approached, Gun smiled innocently and then ripped part of his shirt off.

“Gun, what the fu-”

“Thanks, mate.” He turned to Finn and motioned to his arm.  The blond hesitantly held it out as Gunner wrapped the torn fabric around it. He stifled a laugh at Finn’s hiss when he tied it.

“You wasted my shirt on - fuck you, man.”

“We all know you like to show off your ‘abs’ anyway.” Gun patted Erik on the shoulder. “C’mon. You good?” Finn jumped slightly when he realized the brunet was addressing him. He gave a small nod and searched the black void for a face to the voice. He heard a scoff and raised his brow. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Bullet yipped at Gunner’s side, moving the five boys forward. They remained quiet, Finn beside Gunner, twins behind them, and Riot and Bullet trotting silently in the back. The fox ran off when laughter and village chatter could be heard seeping into the forest. A call rang out when the 5 boys were spotted and a guard came running to meet them. He recognized Finn and pulled him past the rest, glaring at the strange faces. “Chon yu bilaik?”

The brunet sighed, moving his hood down further. “Ai laik Gunner kom SheidgedaKru.”

The guard seemed to be silently questioning them when Sam spoke up. “Em ste hainofa. (He’s the prince.)”

Both Finn and the watchman’s eyes grew wide. “Yu nomon ste Natheda? (Your mom is Commander of the Night?)”

Gunner sent a quick, hidden snarl toward his friend. “Sha. (Yes.)”

The guard glanced around and saw the rest nodding to validate his claim. He seemed hesitant, but allowed them through much to Finn’s disappointment. He lead them past the guard’s post and toward the center of the village. Some of the Wood Clan had noticed the Nightwalkers not from their clan and whispered amongst themselves. Gunner caught one of the girls giggling at him and focused on the ground in front of him.

Erik ‘tsk’ed. “Well, definitely a lukewarm welcome. The girls are paying attention to the wrong guy.”

Finn ignored him, stopping in the center of the village. “Well, you’re here now, and, uh, I’m gone.”

Before he could escape, Gunner caught his elbow. “Not so fast, mokskwoma.” He glanced around at the surrounding huts. “Which one’s yours?” He watched the crashing blue eyes widen as Finn tried to take a step back. “I hate repeating myself, Finn.” The blond remained silent. “Which. One. Is-” He saw the azure dart to a nearby hut behind the brunet. He let Finn go and turned to his friends. “Don’t get into any trouble.”

Erik saluted. “Aye, Aye. Prince.”

Gunner stared at him a second before finding Riot’s gaze. “Riot, will you - can you just -” He motioned to the twins and earned a laugh and nod from the quiet blond. When the three stalked off to explore, Gun clapped his hands once to grab Finn’s attention. “Let’s say ‘hi’ to mom.”

“No, what are you do-” Before the blond could finish, Gunner had already started for the door. “I don’t have a mom!”

Gun scoffed. “Bad liar. What’s wrong? Afraid she won’t approve of me?”

“What the hell do you want!?”

“World peace?” The brunet’s mouth was lit up in a smug smile, one Finn was tired of seeing. “Relax, Finn. I just want to talk.” He stood in front on the wooden door. “Should I knock or…?”

Finn placed his hand on the scythe hanging on his side. “Gunner-”

“You don’t scare me, Finn. But you can’t say the same, can you?” The blond let out a sharp breath and watched, almost paralyzed, as the brunet slowly opened the door. He took a step in, ignoring the mumblings of the boy behind him. The hut was bare, weapons thrown about, food still fresh in the kitchen. He crossed his arms when he heard steps approach from a nearby room. He was met with more blonde hair and blue eyes in an older, more feminine face.

She stilled when she saw him, confusion evident on her brow. She looked behind him to her son. “Finn?”

He shrugged. “Said he wanted to talk.”

“Finn, how many times do I have to tell you? We can not afford to-”

Gunner had been observing her, the smirk ever present. He cut her off, his soft voice full of memories that would awaken more than just his own. “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.” He watched the woman’s face contort and he studied her carefully before continuing. “It’s Oppenh-”

“I know who Oppenheimer is.” Her shoulders were tense and her eyes saw a boy - a friend - lost by time.

That was it. The last confirmation he needed. “Clarke Griffin.” He took a step forward, waiting for her to deny the name, but she stood rooted.

Clarke barely glanced at her son before gesturing towards the door. “Finn-”

“Mom, what - how does -”

“Finn, I need you to leave.”

“No, you don’t know what he’s-”

“Finn!” The boy jumped slightly and backed up. He nodded respectfully and slowly made his way out of the door. He saw the shining smirk of the other boy before the door closed on the image of his pale mother. Clarke immediately let out a large breath. “Who are you?”

Ignoring her question, he started looking around the hut, a hint of hurt slipping into his words. “They all think you’re dead.”

She shuffled slightly. “What?”

“My mom. My dad.” He met her eye. “Bellamy.” She opened her mouth to speak, but rage found him instead. “They thought - think - you died years ago. Abby has been mourning you for years. My mom blames herself! Bellamy can’t even go a day without thinking about you! And you were here? The whole fucking time you were here? And you had a kid. He’s an asshole, by the way.” He leaned on the table in the center, his head lowered. “They think you’re dead.”

“It’s not like they ever went looking.”

His head slowly rose, his fist clenching against the counter. “Everyday.”

“What?”

“They searched everyday.”  A wounded roar ripped from his throat. “My mom cried. She said she should have never let you go. She was broken after you left, and Bellamy... _you_ left _them_ , and they were the ones that had to pick up the fucking pieces.”

Clarke sat, her gaze somewhere in the past. “Bell…”

“My dad said he was never the same. Orion, now, she did what she could, but you know what guilt does to a person.” She had remained stoic causing the fury to build in Gunner. “Do you even care? They were your people! Your friends! Your mother!”

“Do I care? Of course I care. I left everything! They deserved better. I killed 300 people.”

“So did Bellamy.” He watched her eyes snap onto his shadowed face. “But he stayed. Because he knew they would need him and he told me once that he wanted to go with you - when you said you were leaving - but they needed him. They needed you. Sometimes, Clarke, they _still_ need you. They need something good, they need an old friend to walk through those gates, they need something to be ok.”

Her blue eyes were wet, staining her cheek. Her voice came in a broken whisper. “Who are you?”

He threw back his hood, the golden-green eyes telling of a history she wouldn’t know. “Gunner Murphy.”

Her mouth opened slightly, a half-hearted chuckle to follow. “John...So, your mother is…”

“Kylo.”

Clarke was smiling now. I can tell you the thought that brought the small action of joy: they’d made it. “You’re a Nightwalker, then.” He nodded. “Got any stories?”

The venom in his eyes softened. “Only nightmares.”

She sighed and stood, looking him up and down and counting the similarities between his parents. “Why are you here?”

“I had to know for sure.”

“Know what?”

“If it was you.” He looked back at the door. “We found Finn - Finn found us - and when he told me his name...Well, let’s just say I’ve heard about the spacewalker. Then, he called this language ‘English’. No one calls it English except for the original SkaiKru. So where would he have learned it?”

A smirk dawned on her face. “You’re clever. You didn’t get that from John.” The boy let out a chuckle. “So, it’s me.”

“Yeah, I just wish I wasn’t the one to find out.”

She glanced down before furrowing her brow. “How are they?”

“They’re surviving. _We’re_ surviving...some of us.”

“Is Bellamy still hard headed? He was convinced Kylo was this savage murderer. Took forever to change his mind. He also didn’t get along with my mom very well. And, God, him and Octavia were always at each other’s throats. There was one time Jasper had to intervene, but he’s so small and O could be intimidating when she wants and - I suppose they’re different now.” Clarke let out a breath. “How is Jasper? Did he ever move on from Maya?”

Gunner’s jaw locked. “He’s dead.” He watched pain wash over her face. “So is Miller.” She covered her face with her hands. “It was Rogues.”

“The 8 villagers…”

“Yeah.” Gun heard a familiar yip from outside and dragged his hand down his face. He pushed the door open and glanced over his shoulder at the woman. “They still need you, _Princess._ ”

He stepped into the light squinting, but had no time to raise his hood as the fox barked at him. Gunner furrowed his brow and tried to lightly nudge the beast to the side. He heard a muffled call to his left and turned to find Erik with his mouth full of food. Sam and Riot were behind him, both noticing the hyper animal.

When Riot pointed at Bullet with his mouth open, Gun just shrugged. After seeing he held all four of the Nightwalkers’ attentions, the fox ran through the village, stopping only to see if they were following. Gun’s aggravation was rising until he heard the insults being spit into the air mixing with laughter and pain filled cries.

The small group stopped when they noticed a circle of boys taunting something in the center. One, the eldest looking, was kicking the unknown object, taunts falling from his mouth. Gunner’s companions heard him sigh before he was no longer by their side. “Heya, bushhada! (Hey, coward!)” When the aggressor had turned to question the title, he felt the Nightwalker’s fist land on his jaw. He staggered back with a grunt as his friends tried to take down the brunet. Gunner had kicked one into a wall and flipped another over when his friends heard Bullet bark again.

Erik clicked his tongue. “It’s the worm in the center, isn’t it?”

Sam nodded. “I would assume so.”

“We have to help him, don’t we?”

“And you would assume correctly.”

“Murphy’s Law looks like he’s handling it.” When the aggressor pulled out a blade, Erik’s brown eyes widened. “He’s not handling it. He’s not handling it!” He spun around in search of the blond. “Ri-where the fuck did you go?”

Riot had noticed the blade before the twins. He had also noticed the double-sided sword leaning on one of walls of food storage. “Gunner.” The brunet dodged a swing and stumbled back. He glanced to grab the weapon, the choice catching him off guard. He sent a quick, confused look to Riot who only shrugged. The blond noticed another Wood Clan with a smaller knife and grabbed his bow and arrow, shooting it out of his hand.

Gunner spun the sword in his hand, feeling the easy momentum and swing. He looked back up at the aggressor who seemed to be rethinking his idea and swung the weapon as a taunt in front of him. “Buk au. (Run.)” The clang of a dropped blade filled the air and the group of boys followed the Nightwalker’s advice, running from the beaten boy on the ground.

The twins approached, Erik cupping his hands over his mouth. “Yeah, that’s right! Only we’re allowed to beat the shit out of him!”

The brunet glared at his friend and shook his head. “Useless.”

“Hey, don’t talk about Sam like that.”

“I was talking about both of you.” Gun looked down at the bruised boy trying desperately to get up.

Riot looked between Sam and Erik, annoyance evident on his brow. “Morons.”

“Well, it is in our DNA, right?” Erik threw his arm over the blond with a smile, continuing the conversation on genetics.

Gunner ignored them, kneeling in front of the injured boy. “Finn.” He looked up slightly, blood trickling down his face. One arm was gripping his rib and the other was keeping him upright. “Shit.” He stood, extending his hand, and waited for the blond to take it. Finn looked at it hesitantly before giving him his hand and being hoisted up to his feet.  

Finn groaned as a pain shot through his rib and he glanced to where the attackers had gone running. His gaze came to rest to the boy in front of him - the ghost. The hood was off, worried green eyes staring into the light blue. Finn noticed golden flakes had gathered in the center of the verdant and that it added a certain liveliness to them. He couldn’t find the same thing when he looked in a mirror. If war knows one thing…

Sam’s voice tugged them both away from their examinations. “Gunner, I know you wanted to visit, but we should really be getting back. NatHeda might have-”

“I know. Sam, get them ready.” He looked toward Erik and Riot, caught in an argument. “And get some food for the walk.”

“What about you?” Gun sighed, motioning to Finn. “Right.” With that, the twin tugged his friends’ sleeves toward the main bustle of village.

Finn swayed weakly on his feet, barely noticing when his uninjured arm was draped around sturdy shoulders. Blurry feet urged his own to move in time and he slowly lifted his face to see steely green eyes staring ahead. Step by step they neared the hut until Gun kicked the door open and dragged the blood splattered boy inside. He sat him down, the blond noting his mother had left. He chanced a glance up at the Nightwalker. Gunner was throwing his hood back up, one hand rubbing his eyes. Finn cleared his throat, “How do you know my mom?”

Gun rolled his shoulders and began to leave, his hood turning only slightly to acknowledge the teen over his shoulder. “Why don’t you ask _her_.”

The blond watched him reach the door as a wave of pain rolled up his ribs. He gritted his teeth with a sigh, “Thank you.”

The footsteps stopped. The hood snapped back to allow the golden-green eyes to find the light blue. Gunner seemed to scrutinize Finn, a question clawing up his throat only to die before it could leave his lips. The brunet turned abruptly and stalked out the door without a word, leaving Finn with a furrowed brow and questions of his own.

It wasn’t hard to find his friends. The crow of laughter coming from beyond the gate was a dead give away. With an amused chuckle, Gunner went to join the three. He passed the guard with a nod of respect before seeing Sam on the ground and Erik snickering above him. Riot was watching disinterested as he fixed the goggles atop his head. He was the first to notice the eldest and kicked the shorter twin to earn his attention.

Erik spun around, “Watch it, Riot, you’re next.” He caught sight of Gunner and straightened up. “The prince has returned! How’s the worm?”

“Fine.” The brunet held his hand out for Sam, bringing the twin to his feet. “What-”

“We were sparring. Sam still sucks.”

Sam slapped the back of his brother’s head. “So I’m not a fighter, whatever, you can’t hunt for shit.”

Erik retaliated by hitting his arm. “Yeah? Well, I have people that can hunt for me. Nobody in their right mind would fight for _you_.”

“Good thing you’re not in your right mind, huh, baby brother?”

“You are 9 minutes older than me!”

Gunner rolled his eyes at their bickering, the argument far from a new one. He motioned Riot forward, the twins falling in step out of instinct. “Gunner.” The brunet turned at his name, the soft voice scarcely used. Riot was smiling as he reached behind him and pulled out the double-sided sword. He held it out in front of his friend, the entirety just shorter than the blond.

“Did you steal this?” Riot only blinked, the smile never fading. Gunner chuckled and took the blade in his hand. “Thanks, cupcake.” With a humorous smile aimed at the boy now with a defeated glare, he swung it cautiously, nodding in approval before starting them on their trail once again. “Come on, let’s go home.”


	4. This was her Homecoming

I’ve seen my share of leaders; both when my heart beat and after, when it didn’t. Two, each in my time, marked for me what it was to lead with love and what it was to lead with fear. That’s the difference between a good and bad leader, I think. A nobel heart versus a corrupted mind. Maxson proudly wore the former while Nia cursed her people with the latter.

Maxson. The Natheda before Kylo; her father, in fact. He had the chance to kill me once, in his first few years of his reign, but he spared me. He wasn’t just the protector of his people, but of those who needed protecting. He ruled with a pure heart and strong morals.

Nia. The Azgeda Queen before her son, Roan. She held no room in her heart for love. For anything. I sometimes found myself believing her not to have one. She began the war that would end me - that would end a lot of us. And she did it for power.

Kylo knew these examples as her own. Years after my observations she, too, had come to the same conclusions. She knew the difference. She knew which one she wanted to be.

So, when the Nightwalker met with the new Heda she knew she more resembled Nia. This Heda would offer no protection to those who would not bow. And Kylo would not bow.

Upon her return she informed her tribe of the developments. She warned them not to trust the Heda and prepare to go on defense. They would not bow. A few days past as the news calmed and fears turned to resolve. Niron was out on his lawn, a sketch pad in one hand and a pencil in the other. His subject? Riot. The older boy was sitting across from him, tearing grass from the ground in boredom. Gunner had found several small sticks and was trying to throw them in his friend’s hair, a yawn escaping his throat. Riot, for the most part had been ignoring him, but his eyes darted up upon hearing a noise.

Riot was looking past him at an approaching figure; her pale, blonde hair flying about her face as she ran. The girl, easily recognized as the hunter-in-training, Skye, barely stopped as she skidded to a light bounce in front of them. “Yo, something’s up at the gate.” Not giving another word, either from excitement or lack of breath, she broke back into a jog as she joined the mass migration toward the silver divider. Gunner followed her retreating form with his eyes as Riot stared at the cloud of dirt just beginning to settle from its previous aggravation. He heard movement from beside him and saw the brunet on his feet, eyes narrowed at the growing crowd.

Gunner glanced down at his friend with a shrug and knocked on his brother’s head. Niron blindly swatted his hand and looked up from the sketch pad to reprimand the eldest when he noticed Riot rising to stand. The little boy scrambled to join them as they made their way down the road.

When they had neared the gate, the shouts growing louder, Niron gripped his brother’s hand and hid behind his leg. Gun merely kept the boy by his side and weaved his way through the curious villagers. They found a secure spot by the stables; some of the younger Nightwalkers’ joining to speculate with each other. The twins quickly found the small group of teenagers, Gunner having started a small conversation with a long-haired boy. They ran over, throwing their arms around both the brunet and Riot, and began their own telling of what they’d heard.

Their voices faded with the talk of the larger group at the Natheda’s movements. Gun could just make out his mother’s long, golden hair through the mass of people. Bellamy was beside her, Carter standing behind him. His father had made his way through the people to stand by his wife.

They were all holding weapons.

The long-haired boy cleared his throat to catch the teens’ attentions. “Could be Rogues. You heard what the Natheda said about the new Heda?” With small murmurs of confirmation, he continued, “No one’s safe anymore.”

Just as Skye was about to silence him in an attempt to cut fear from the smaller children's minds, the guard’s warning echoed throughout the tense village. “There’s two of them. One female, one male.”

A ripple of whispers washed over the Nightwalkers and Kylo gave a small nod of approval to open the gate. The creak was agonizing; it gave life to the pain of waiting. All noise behind her became a dull hum as she caught sight of the two figures approaching.

How many times had she dreamt of her friend taking those same steps up toward the gate until the wind swept the fragile image back into the sky and there was nothing. Nothing but a phantom memory of a girl. A _princess_. But this time, as the wind picked up and blew some of the dirtied blonde locks with it, those blue eyes remained.

The blade dropped from Kylo’s hand. It hit the dirt with a soft thud only to be followed by a chime of metal on metal as Bell’s sword met it. The two stood transfixed as they passed through the gate and stopped in front of them. The name fell from the leader’s mouth like the first drop of rain in an ocean dried by 25 years of lost hope. “Clarke?”

Stirring something in the opposing female, a warm smile blossomed across the withered face. “Heya, Ky.” Clarke waited for another reaction, her grin faltering at the placid look Kylo held. She stood awkwardly as the leader decided whether to believe her eyes; her confidence shriveling with the silence. She was about to explain her presence when Kylo broke out into a choked laugh and began jogging toward her. Clarke wasted no time in meeting her halfway; the two falling into an embrace. This was her homecoming.

Clarke’s eyes fluttered close at the warmth of her friend torn away by time. She could feel Kylo’s arms tighten around her in security; her hands desperately gripping onto the fabric of her back. And for a moment they were no longer hardened adults, trampled by the unforgiving years. They were teens who had just beaten the mountain. They had survived it all and they had done it together. The fire in their hearts still burned with a proud flame. They were safe, this world was theirs. Shifting dirt caught Clarke’s attention and her lively blue eyes snapped open.

Kylo must have heard it too, her arms falling and her feet stepping back to allow the man in her place. Bellamy wrapped his arms around the woman, lifting her slightly. The muscles in his arms tensed as he repeated her name softly. The smile consumed her face and she had to will herself to pull back.

Her shiny eyes caught on an older face amongst the crowd. “Mom?”

Abby let go of Kane’s arm to repeat Kylo and Bellamy’s action. “Clarke!” She cupped her daughter’s face in her hands with a large grin as tears trailed down her cheeks to match the blonde.

Finn stood awkwardly behind his mom and scratched the back of his head. He failed to notice that Clarke had turned back to look at him until she cleared her throat weakly. Abby slowly moved towards him, brushing the familiarly light hair back to see his face better. “You’re so handsome.” She glanced back at her daughter, as if searching for an answer, before the blonde nodded. “What’s your name?”

The boy remained silent, a brow raised at the spectacle before him. Clarke chuckled slightly, “Finn.” He watched the reactions from those around him. Smiles tainted by an old wound. He endured the lasting hug his new-found grandmother attacked him with and avoided the others’ gazes. That’s when he noticed the dwindling crowd. Their curiosity satisfied, they had begun to head back home. As Clarke and the remaining adults dove into conversation, his azure eyes caught on a familiar crooked smile.

Gunner was staring at him through the departing group. Finn noticed he was surrounded by the three from the forest along with a number of other teens and small children. He was compelled to call out to the brunet but the name laid in his throat, too scared to awaken any taunts that may follow. The blond sheepishly dropped his attention to the dirt before a surge of courage took over and he chanced a glance at the boy. Gun hadn’t looked away. His grin broke into a chuckle and he shook his head, pushing past his friends without another word and making his way down the road; his back to Finn.

The other teens followed shortly after, each going home. Finn noticed that Riot had taken a smaller child’s hand and walked the same path Gun had; accompanied shortly by one of the twins. He split off to travel down a different road while his brother had stayed behind. The blond had taken a stance behind his mother when the other boy approached. He could tell by the throwing knives it was Erik and he stood, bored, as the adults talked. Blake. Gunner had called them Blake once. He was Bellamy’s son. Looking at the man now it was obvious: same dark, curly hair, same brown eyes. Why only one had stayed behind to wait for him was what Finn couldn’t figure out.

Erik had caught the confused furrowed brow on the blond. When the blue eyes darted to meet his, he sent a scowl and cleared his throat lightly. Bellamy took notice, rolling his eyes and throwing an arm around his son to pull him into his side. The man dismissed them and left the small group. The minutes ticked by for Finn. He would have gladly kept Erik’s glare if it had meant he wasn’t the only teen. Boredom took over and he found himself watching a butterfly land on one of the blue flowers on the ground.  He had barely noticed that his mother had begun moving. Snapping from his daze he quickly caught up to her only to see she was still engaged with the long-haired woman they were first greeted with. A man was by her side, small, smartass comments coming from him occasionally. The woman, Finn learned, was Kylo; the man being her husband, John. Clarke once addressed her as Natheda - so, Gunner’s mother and the man his father. He could see the similarities. From what he could tell, Gun’s father, too, was an asshole.

They had been nearing a house. Kylo pushed the door open and motioned the two newcomers in. Clarke accepted with a gracious smile while Finn stood just outside of the doorway. He shuffled on his feet, groaning when his mother called his name. He slowly entered the home and jumped slightly when the door behind him closed. The blond stuffed his hands in his pockets in discomfort and found bare wall to lean against.

His gaze jerked to the side at the sound of small feet running down the hall after hearing the thud of the door. “Mommy!” Finn watched as a young boy jumped into Kylo’s arms. His innocent eyes fell on the two guests. “Who are they?”

Ky laughed and picked him up, resting the boy on her hip. “Ask.”

The tiny blond looked bravely upon them with a smile that showed he was missing a front tooth. “What’s your name? I’m Niron!”

His grin seemed contagious as the woman answered, a smile seeping into her words. “I’m Clarke. That’s my son, Finn.”

Niron waved enthusiastically which elicited a hesitant one from the teen. As Clarke began to further inquire about the small boy and the years she had missed, Finn began looking around. It was a cozy home, warm, full of life. The adults conversation a buzz in his ears, he started to walk around a bit.

The blond had gone unnoticed as he made his way down the hall. He stopped at the first open door. Riot was sitting on a bed, fiddling with some electronic in his hand. He looked up, his eyes widening at the boy from the forest. Riot put the object down slowly, Finn noticing that his comforter was riddled with gear parts and screws, and hesitantly got to his feet. He approached Finn, not bothering to acknowledge his cocked brow. Without a word, Riot took hold of the door and slammed it shut, pushing the opposing boy back with the sound alone.

Finn growled, “Right.” and rolled his eyes, turning back to the hall. The room was smaller, more colorful, and held no organization - Niron’s he believed. He almost went back to the living room, but found one last door, closed, at the end. The blond neared it, begging his hand not to form a fist and knock. He cursed the sound of the timid beat and awaited the tenant.

The door swung open lazily; the boy at the end of the action rubbing his eyes. The golden flakes brightened in curiosity as the green around them dilated in recognition. The light brown of his hair scattered in every direction and he was forced to push some of it back. Gunner sighed, his gaze ghosting over Finn’s injuries for any sign of healing before darting back to the nervous blue of his eyes. “She let you into the house?” The blond stood with tense shoulders and failed to respond earning an annoyed sigh from the brunet. Gun’s mouth opened to cast a second question when a preppy voice echoed down the hall.

Finn barely glanced down the corridor before he returned his attention to the green eyes now wide in horror. Gunner grabbed a bundle of Finn’s shirt, yanking him into the room and slamming the door behind him. The brunet quickly rested his back against the barrier as a brace and squeezed his eyes shut as the excited steps got louder.

The blond watched in amusement as Gun flinched at the knock which preceded a string of giggles. “Gunny! Your mom said you were home!”

Finn chuckled, “ _Gunny?”_

“Finn.” The name doubled as a warning as the brunet scanned the room for an escape. He quickly motioned toward the window. “If we hurry-”

With a roll of the eyes, Finn pulled Gunner away from the door, even with the continuous warnings falling from the latter’s lips, and opened it slightly. He was met with bright (if not disappointed) eyes that blinked rapidly at the new face. The girl’s face morphed into a frown and her hand flew to her hip. “Where’s Gunner?”

Finn leaned on the door frame to block the view behind him. “I’m Finn. Thanks for asking.”

Her jaw locked. “He’s tall with feathery brown hair that falls in front of his gorgeous green eyes.”

“Wow, sounds like a catch.” His voice was monotone and while the girl looked down the hall, him and the boy in question traded an exhausted look.

Her eyes flickered down the teen in front of her before snapping up unimpressed. “He is. _My_ catch.”

“Right. Well, I think _your_ catch just left.” She huffed in irritation as Finn started to close the door. “Might want to get a net.” When it gave a satisfying click and the girl’s stomps receded, Finn doubled over in laughter. “She seemed nice.”

Gunner glared at the boy and raked back his messy hair. “I really need to talk to mom about not letting people into this house.”

The blond snorted with another eye roll. “If I wasn’t here, you’d have had to handle your girlfriend yourself and I do not see that ending well for you.”

The warrior turned his back to mess with something on the bed. “Not my girlfriend.”

“Why not? I mean she was cute, I guess. And, if you get over the extremely clingy part, I doubt you would have to worry about her ever leaving you. Ever.”

Gunner had picked up the fox, moving to place the sleeping animal away from the edge. He avoided Finn’s eye, his voice softening. “Not my type.”

The blond’s brow quirked but he remained silent, opting instead to examine the room he hadn’t fully taken in before. The comforter was half on the bed - half spilled out on the ground as if Gun had stumbled out of it to answer the door. Clothes were thrown about and the floor was littered with debris. Safe to say the leader wasn’t a neat freak. What really caught Finn’s attention was the wall above the desk. Papers hung in a mass form, more scattered on the adjacent wooden surface. He neared it, the black ink popping out from the white sheets forming drawings: a fox, the trees, the village, _people_. He recognized some. Riot, the twins, Kylo and John. There was a couple beside them; a woman and man, both with tattoos on their faces. Everyone was smiling, one even capturing the goggled boy in a laugh.

Finn lightly traced the lines of a woman’s portrait. Her hair was lightly shaded in, her eyes shining. The jaw was a little sharp, the cheekbones a bit too high, but he could recognize his own mom: Clarke. He turned to Gunner, the brunet timidly standing close with his gaze carefully watching him. “Did you draw this - _these_?”

It was the first time he had seen Gun shy as he lowered his head and nodded slowly. “I like capturing moments - memories.” He nodded toward the drawing. “My mom used to describe what Clarke looked like. She described everyone.”  The brunet took his place beside Finn and pulled some paper out from the bottom of a pile. The blond took them, carefully sifting through the tattered pages. He stopped each time, waiting for the names. “Maxon and Sitka, my grandparents. Oh, that’s Anya. And that’s-”

“Raiko.” Finn grinned at the familiar face. “He lives in my village. This is pretty good, but he’s a bit older now. Actually,” He looked around for the object he had seen earlier. He found the double-sided sword leaning on the wall in the corner. “He was looking for that.”

“Dare him to come find it.” Gunner crossed his arms with a small grin. Finn flipped to the last page; the face a stranger. He waited for a name to identify the long haired boy etched forever on the page. But nothing came. He turned to the teen to see him staring strangely at the drawing. The green darted to meet the confused blue eyes, a decision swirling in the gold. He hummed in determination; he would act on his idea. “Let’s go.”

“Huh?” Finn quirked a brow and stared after the boy now throwing on shoes. “Where?”

Gun quickly brushed his hair down with his fingers, combing it into submission. He looked down at his apparel: a black shirt and sweatpants matched by dark boots given to him by his father. He shrugged. His shoes were already on. Throwing the door open, he gave Finn a small push and followed him down the hall. “Do you trust me?”

Finn quickly shook his head. “Hell no.”

“Perfect.” He playfully punched the boy’s arm. “Then this’ll be fun.”

“For who?”

Gun smirked and walked through the kitchen toward the door. His mother noticed the two boys and grabbed the back collar of her son. “Gunner.”

“Natheda.” He smiled innocently. “We were just leaving.”

“Were you?” She copied the boy’s grin knowing full well their destination. Kylo’s eyes drifted to the boy behind him. “And where are you going?”

Finn shrugged, his gaze finding Clarke. Gun spoke up, a glance given to John. “Surprise for the new kid.”

Murphy chuckled. “C’mon, Moon Queen, let the kid go.”

The blonde woman sighed. “He is going to get into trouble.”

Gun snorted quietly. “I hope.”

He lowered his head at his mother’s glare causing Kylo to brush her hair back in frustration. “Clarke?”

Clarke scrutinized the two boys silently before nodding in acceptance. “They’re tough, they’ll be fine.”

With a second sigh, Ky lifted her reign on Gun’s shirt and rearranged the light brown locks that refused to tame. “Fine. But remain safe and return before dark.”

Gunner beamed. “We’ll see.”

“Gunner Murphy!” The brunet hit Finn’s stomach lightly and upon receiving his attention, ran for the door. When his laugh echoed back to his mother and her friends, she turned to her husband. “He takes after you too much.”

The two boys walked down the dirt path before cutting off and heading toward a secluded part of the gate. Gun had his hands in his pant pockets, confidence written on his face while Finn trudge after him. “Gunner, the gate is that way.”

“It’s this way too.”

“I meant the way to get out.”

“So did I.” He glanced nonchalantly at the blond. “The guards don’t trust my word. So, if I tell them my mother said I could go, they still wouldn’t let us through.”

Finn’s attention laid with the road behind him as Gun talked, having now turned back around to find he was behind. He jogged to catch up and found them nearing part of the iron divider. “Why don’t they trust your word?”

Gunner laughed. Not like the condescending chuckle he had given Finn before, but one he would share with his friends. “Because they’re full of lies.” His snickering only worsened at the disappointed look plastered on the blond’s face. “It’s up here, mokskwoma.”

The second teen growled at the newly acquainted nickname. “What’s up here?”

“You ask a lot of questions. Have you ever thought of just observing?” He pried the metal away and stepped through waiting for Finn to follow. “How old are you?”

After almost falling, the wood clan steadied himself and quirked his brow at the sudden question. “18.”

Gunner only emitted a quick, low hum as an answer. He turned abruptly and began walking into the dense green, Finn struggling to keep up. “Why didn’t you invite your friends? Or at least your brother.”

“This isn’t their adventure and my brother is too young to be in these woods.”

“He looked old enough to me.”

“He’s 5, Finn.”

“No, I meant Riot.”

Finn noticed Gunner glance at him from the side. “Riot isn’t my brother.”

“But he lives with you.”

It was silent for a bit, the tension cutting nervous holes in the blond. The leader seemed hesitant to speak; his words slow and drawn out. “His parents were apart of the 8.” Finn’s eyes fell on the ground and he expected the conversation to be over. “So was the Blakes’ brother.” Another agonizing pause. “And my aunt and uncle.”

He didn’t respond. There was no ‘sorry’. There was no ‘you must miss them’. There was a comforting melody of rustling leaves and wildlife. This was a different Gunner than the one he had met days ago. The other was more reserved; a wall built up to hide anything that may render him vulnerable. An hour passed with small conversation until they stepped through a particularly woody area. Grass covered a small plot of land, a large wall of green off to the side.

Gun stood with a small, respectful smile on his face. He was staring at the green sheet in front of them. “This is as much your history as it is mine.” He began to walk across the small field, his eyes trained carefully on the ground. Finn followed reluctantly as he made his way toward the viney curtain.

The blond saw a glint of metal flash, his brow furrowing. He reached out and yanked at part of the foliage to have it fall before him and the Ark’s brand to shine in discovery. “The dropship.” He spun around to examine the grass before him. Clarke had told him what happened. The lives that were lost. When he tried to inquire about the reason he had been brought there he found the brunet gone. “Gunner?”

At the call of his name, his head peaked out from the side. “This way.”

He turned the corner twice until he was in the back of the metallic ship. It was another veil of green. “Wow, impressive.”

He scoffed, “I hate you.” Gun easily moved some to the side to reveal a large hole. “Courtesies of my dad.” He went inside, waiting for Finn to repeat the process before moving even more aside to allow for some light.

The blond watched Gun lean on a wall, his arms crossed. Those green eyes sparked with a life of anticipation. Finn threw his hands up in defeat. “Well?”

“I already know what’s here.”

Finn rolled his eyes and mumbled a ‘right’ under his breath. He began to scan the barely lit area for what the annoying Nightwalker wished him to find. There was nothing. It was empty. “What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?”

Gunner rolled his eyes. “ _Observe.”_

“And _you_ hate _me_ ?” The brunet chuckled quietly earning a small smile from Finn. But seriously, the dropship was empty. He kicked the air in silent frustration before he stopped, his body going stiff. He had been looking for something _in_ the dropship not _on_ it.

The violent blue of his eyes searched the walls until he found the faint markings made on one. Scared to wake the ghosts of the past, he walked toward it softly. He was scared. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe that was it. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what the markings would say, what truths they would unveil or what lies they might tell. When he was close enough, the azure drowning the engravings, his shoulders relaxed and a shaky breath left his lips. They were names. Dozens of names. There were 8 carved deeper than the rest at the bottom of the list. He reached his hand out to trace them with his fingers. They traveled up, stopping for a second on Clarke Griffin, before trailing back through. He had neared the top when his hand ceased all together. He could feel the engraving; the jagged edges, the depth of the carving, the pain that had gone into writing it. Gunner had, at some point, moved to be beside him as he held out a folded piece of paper. Finn took it and unraveled the tattered page. He held up the drawing, his free hand returning to the remainder of the lost boy. Finn Collins. They were the same age when he died- that's why Gunner had asked.The ocean calmed for a second, his blue eyes mourning a spacewalker he would never get to know.

He could hear shuffling beside him as Gunner turned away from the lamenting wall. “Why didn’t you get up?”

Finn glanced at him. “Huh?”

“Back at your village when those boys had knocked you down.” This was the question that he had wanted to ask at their last meeting. It had eaten away at him, reviving in this moment to finally hear an answer. “Why didn’t you get up?”

Waves crashed together in a battle of rage. “Because every time you try and get up, they knock you back down.”

Gunner put his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s why you need someone to pick you up.” Finn’s mouth tugged up in a smile before both of their gazes returned to the wall destined to remember forever. “Did my mom tell you about our customs” A shaking head. “When someone dies, we believe they become stars.”

“Your people become stars? Mine become scars.”

“Who said they’re not one and the same? Stars are time-placed rips in the sky that it wears proudly. That's what a scar should be.” His eyes trailed over the names one last time before turning back toward the exit. “We can still make it back before dark.” Finn gave a small nod and followed the boy out, a smile still lingering on his lips.


	5. You Think Surviving Shouldn't Hurt

The bird’s melody went unheard. The flower’s beauty unseen. The wind only won attention when it forced them to push back their hair. Laughter, instead, filled the silence. Smiles stole the allure. Stories held their heed even when the breeze tugged on their arms and whined. Gunner and Finn no longer walked as strangers but as friends.

The brunet had told him of the antics the twins were known for. Particularly the pond prank Erik pulled on his brother not a week before. Finn almost tripped over a fallen branch, his arm wrapped around his stomach as a howl of laughter left his throat. Just watching the boy’s joyful giggling made Gun break into a chuckle which only worsened when the former  **_tried_ ** to replace the laugh with words. 

I wonder if Gunner would still be smiling if he knew. If he knew this was the first time Finn had heard himself laugh. If he knew that the sound was a rare melody and he had been the first - the only - person to bother drawing it from the sullen boy. If he knew this was the first time Finn had a friend. If he knew for once Finn didn’t feel like a replacement. I wonder if Gunner would still be smiling if he knew.

When he had calmed, Finn’s grin faltered slightly and he trained his eye on the path in front of them. He had been curious about the twins from the start but a sudden, deeper interest emerged when he noticed their behavior earlier in the day. “You said their brother was-” He stopped abruptly before letting go of a heavy breath. “What about their mom? She wasn’t with Bellamy when we arrived.”

Gun continued to kick the rock he had found meters back. “Losing 8 wasn’t the only consequence of that day.” He watched it bounce only to stop until he reached it again. “Riot went silent, Monty hid away, and the Blakes’ split up - in more ways than one. Erik blames his mom for Noah’s death so he refuses to go to her house whereas Sam spends the majority of his time there.” He sighed and glanced above them at the falling light. “Noah was a good guy; he loved them. He wouldn’t want his death to divide them. He’d want it to bring them together.”

Yeah, Noah wasn’t exactly happy with the outcome.

Finn had quietly taken in the words, his own now meek. “What if…” He trailed off. Gun had turned his face toward him, unknowing eyes burning with curiosity. The blond watched the dirt shift with every step before finally continuing. “What if it was someone's fault? - Their deaths, I mean.”

“It was.” Finn’s fists clenched though it went unnoticed by the boy still kicking the rock. Gunner watched the object meet up with a few others, his attention stolen by trying to single it out. When he looked back at his friend after hearing only silence he saw the distance written on Finn’s face. Gun nudged him lightly. “The Rogues. They’re the only ones to blame.”

He only nodded in a hesitant agreement and his gaze fixed down the road. “Gun-”

“I heard it.” The brunet had made a sport of the rock, his tongue out in concentration and his eyes trained on it’s movements. “Three horses, right?”

“Ok, honestly, do you have super hearing?”

Gunner chuckled softly. “It’s a part of training.” He raised his attention to the approaching mass of shadow expecting the friendly faces of Wood Clan or Ice Nation, but he was met with no such familiarity. His walking slowed until he was stationary; the boy beside him coming to a confused halt. Finn noticed his eyes were wide with...fear? Gunner frantically grabbed for a blade no longer there with a small growl. He noticed the scythe swinging slightly from his friend’s side and took it earning a reprimand he silenced with a warning glare. 

The trots got louder and Gunner positioned himself in front of Finn, the scythe lowered to the ground. The latter moved to pass the former but he held his arm out as the horses came to a stop before them. The blond shielded his eyes from the sun; the three figures coming into view.  He went rigid at the sight: two men with white down their faces and a woman, in the center, with a grin that twisted his stomach.

Half of her dark, inky hair was braided back to frame her face. The rest dripped down past her shoulders and back. The white surrounding her eyes in regal marking only contrasted with it. Her piercing blue eyes were looking down at the two boys; the orange light behind her tinted ominously red to outline her form. 

Her thin lips never broke from their corrupted royal smile; her guard, instead, addressed the teens. “Kneel before your Heda.”

Finn glanced sideways toward Gunner, and what he saw was no welcomed sight. The wind had once again knocked the light brown strands of hair into his face but he made no move to sweep it back. A snarl chased away the smile and in place of laughter was quick, uneven breaths. A shadow casted half his face in hiding; the other illuminated in hatred. His eyes were narrowed, the green darkened and having consumed the gold. Gun seemed to be testing the woman in front of him. His words were drawn out to watch for her reaction. “There’s white on your face.”

The men by her side disagreed with his tone, both prodding their horses forward until a quick dismissive hand stopped them. She stared down at the brunet with amusement. “Is that an accusation or a question?”

Gun’s hand tightened around the weapon in his hand, his knuckles turning pale from the strain. “Why?”

A small chuckle left her throat followed by a sickening smile that made the boy regret his question. “Black is so uniform whereas white is more... _ rogue. _ ”

Something in Gunner snapped:  _ the truth _ . He lunged forward, stopped only by hands grabbing his shirt and pulling him back. “Klir ai of! Jus drein jus daun! (Let me go! Blood must have blood!)”

The Heda cocked a brow, her voice coated with teasing. “And whose blood have I spilled?” When his mouth remained shut she donned a knowing smile and swung her leg over the saddle, stepping down from her horse. The guards went to follow but she glanced behind her shoulder with a sharp, “Chil yo daun. (Stand down.)” Her focus returned to the teen as she took slow, deliberate steps toward him. “My blood is not yours to take.” The blade scraped against the sheath as she pulled it out.

Gunner shook free from Finn’s grasp and pushed him off to the side. “I’m not the mountain. I won’t take it, just spill it.”

She swung the blade, Gun jumping back to dodge it. He looked up at her through the dirty brown strands of hair, the scythe held up in defense. She attacked again, Gunner never throwing a counter swing. Finn looked on in horror at the Nightwalker who refused to attack. The Heda managed to catch him by surprise, spinning and slashing his arm with her blade. The scythe dropped with a pathetic thud and he fell to the ground. He gripped the wound with his other hand as she knelt in front of him.

The woman’s light airy laugh reached his ears and he willed himself to keep his attention on his arm. “You silly little boy. You’ve survived so long,” She placed her hand on his chin, forcing his eyes to met her’s. They were steeled over, not even an echo of kindness resonated in them. “You think surviving shouldn’t hurt.” She stood and returned to her horse without even acknowledging Finn’s presence. 

The guard to her left leaned over to her. “Ripa, Azgeda is expecting us. The king requested a meeting.” 

She nodded. “I am aware, Kiba.”

A scoff caught her attention and her eyes darted to the bleeding boy. “Ripa, huh? You’re not even subtle.” The Heda quirked a brow in amusement but ultimately ignored him. The horses’ trots started once again and the brunet slowly stood up to yell out, “Gunner!”

He watched Ripa’s horse stop at her order and she turned back. “What?”

“My name is Gunner.”

Her smile stayed mocking as she pouted her lips. “I don’t care.”

His shoulders shook in a crazed laughter. “You should.” Despite the pain in his arm, his grin held steady. “I’m the one that’s going to kill you.”

It was her turn to laugh as the threat laid as a joke. She wasn’t scared of the ‘silly little boy’ she threw to the ground. But she should have been. I wonder if she’d still be smiling if she knew…

Gunner watched the three horses retreat back down the path. His eyes had hardened and his shoulders remained stiff as Finn ran over. The blond grabbed the injured arm and frantically wrapped fabric he had torn from his jacket. Gun growled once at the pain but his attention was locked on the fading trots. He ripped his arm away, picking up the scythe and shoving it back in its owner’s hands. He brushed past him and returned to their walk back to camp.

Finn stared after him. “Gun, your arm-”

“Shut up and walk.” He didn’t bother to look behind him. Either Finn would follow or he wouldn’t. 

The blond watched his friend carefully. He quickly jogged to catch up; the other boy’s relieved sigh not going unnoticed. Gunner’s eyes were lost in years old memories, but when he looked down at the cut on his arm a sense of purpose shined. He gave the injury a half cocked smirk; the same one he had just before he found Clarke. The small rock was forgotten in the dirt and the rest of the journey was traveled in silence. 

When they had reached the break in the camp’s fence unnoticed, the leader pushed the metal apart with a wince and motioned Finn inside. The eerie silence was almost too much for the blond as he opened his mouth to say something. Gun ignored any attempt to break the wall he had built and brushed past him toward the path. Seeing no other choice but to follow, Finn was quickly in step beside him. They approached a small house with several teenagers in the front lawn and a small curse left the brunet’s lips. 

One, the only girl, had noticed them and interrupted her laugh to call out to them. “Hey, prince, there you are. We thought Nova might have kidnapped you.”

Gunner’s shoulders relaxed as he decided he could allow for  _ some _ juvenile comments. “She tried.”

The tiny group began to laugh, her company being the twins. Erik caught sight of the boy standing beside his friend and his chuckle dropped into an awkward cough. “And he succeeded?” The distrust was evident in his tone and the girl sniffled and leaned back on the grass.

She was watching the stranger carefully. “Speaking of  _ he. He _ is quite cute.” 

“Yeah, for a worm. Bet he’s easily as squashed too.” 

Gunner’s face morphed into a snarl. “Erik.” The twin stiffened at the warning hidden in his name. “I’m only going to tell you this once,” He glanced to the side to see Riot coming down to meet them before returning his steeled eyes back onto the three (slightly frightened) teens. “He was born on the ground. He breathes the same air and walks the same earth. He wears no white and poses no threat. He has not earned your hate nor will I allow it to continue. He’s one of us now, got it? Or are we going to have a problem?” The twins had known him for 18 years, they could tell when something had happened. Whether the shadow over his face gave it away or the almost undetectable tremble in his voice. The girl was the first to nod, the twins shortly after. Riot had reached them and Gunner turned to look at him. “That goes for you too, cupcake.”

The silent blond wanted to smile at the nickname, but something about the way his friend had said it made it impossible. All he could do was pat Gun’s shoulder quickly before taking a seat beside the girl. Finn was staring wide-eyed, never expecting such acceptance nor a request for one. “I’m Thea.” He blinked rapidly, tearing his eyes away from Gunner and focusing on the girl donning a playful smile. “Thea Wick.” 

“Girl genius.” Sam was smiling at her. Not a smile a friend would share. No, even Finn could recognize that smile was more. 

Erik laid back and closed his eyes with his hands behind his head. “Genius? Or luck-filled idiot?”

Thea stuck her tongue out. “Next time the power goes out let’s see you fix it.”

“Sure, I’ll just ask your dad. Fixed.”

“Erik, that’s doesn-” Out of habit, the girl glanced at the leader and stopped midsentence upon her discovery. “Gun, your hand! You’re bleeding!”

The brunet glanced down at his fist to the see the crimson liquid drip onto the dirt. He followed the trail up to the wrapping around his arm. It had bled through. “Fuck.” He put pressure on the wound and looked back at Erik. Gunner nodded toward Finn, “Train him.” before jogging back to his house.

Erik stared after him with a sigh. “The prince could be dying and he would still be giving me orders.” He looked back at Finn. “He’s ok, right?” He nodded quickly deciding it was better for Gunner to explain what had happened in the woods. “Alright then. Let’s make you a Nightwalker.” He glanced toward his brother. “Sam.”

The twin jumped, his trance from the girl across from him broken. His cheeks warmed up when he saw Erik’s smug smile. Sam cleared his throat and tried to move the dark curls of hair from his eyes before they sprung back. “Gunner told you to train him.”

“And I will. Eventually.” Erik replaced his hands behind his head. “But the first lesson is…” He trailed off, waiting for his brother to finish the half formed sentence.

Sam sighed. “Culture.”

“Correct. And I, being the handsome warrior I am, excel in fighting. Not talking.”

Thea snorted. “Please, Erik, that’s all you ever do.”

Sam, Finn, and Riot laughed before the first kicked his brother’s leg. “You just don’t want to do it.”

Erik’s mouth tugged up in a smile. “Correct.”

Sam rolled his eyes before rubbing them. “Take a seat, Wood Clan, this may take awhile.”  And it did. By the time they had finished Gunner had returned and the lesson had been interrupted many times. One such event originated with Gun and Erik bickering where, of course, our prince won. When he had arrived on the scene, the brunet sat back to back with Riot, sketchbook in hand. He propped his feet up on Erik’s stomach, a groan escaping the twin’s lips.

He tried to push the boots off. “I’m not your damn foot rest, Murphy.”

The leader only grinned “Nah, you’re my  _ royal _ foot rest.”

“You pronounced ‘knight’ wrong.”

“Sam’s my knight.”

“Then what the fuck am I?”

Gunner chuckled. “ _ My foot rest.” _

Erik growled quietly, “Nomonjoka.” but kept the prince's feet on his chest just happy he was joking around again.

Sam cleared his throat loudly. “May I continue?”

The brunet glanced over to the lesson to see Finn smiling at the pair of them, bored eyes screaming for more entertainment. “If the knight wishes.” Finn gave an exasperated sigh and returned his attention to the twin talking of nocturnal tendencies while Gunner turned to a fresh page in his book and began to sketch.

Finn never thought he’d hear the words come from Sam’s mouth. “I think that’s it.” The blond fell back onto the grass with a breath of relief only to have it ruined.

“For lesson one.” Wood clan turned his head slowly to see Erik with a smile too sadistic (whatever that means) for his liking. “Lesson two: fighting.” He rolled out from under Gun’s feet and stood up, motioning for Finn to follow. “Sammy.” He held his hand out. When he didn’t feel the cold metal he sighed, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. “Thanks for ruining my cool moment, Sam. Give me your fucking sword.” His brother ‘oh’ed quietly and handed the blade over.

“Should I-?” Finn put his hand on his scythe hesitantly.

“Unless you want to get sliced up, I’d recommend it.” The blond frantically pulled it out causing Erik to nod in approval. “Ok, worm, first things first. Defense.”

“Wait, Erik.” Both boys turned to look at Thea. “He’s one of us now, right? You can’t call him worm anymore. He needs a royal title.”

Finn raised a brow. “Royal title?”

She offered a kind smile and motioned toward Gunner. “Gun’s the prince, king in waiting. Sam and Erik are his knights and, uh, part time foot rest; they guard him. Riot’s the scribe, he’s the one who…” Thea glanced quickly toward the blond and brunet still back to back. 

Riot adjusted his goggles to avoid Finn’s curious eyes while Gunner nodded solemnly. “He’s seen them.”

She looked back to Finn, her voice not as strong. “He’s the one who carves the names into the dropship wall.” When he acknowledge her with a nod, she piped up. “And obviously I’m the adviser. So, now we just need to find  _ you _ a title.”

Erik snickered. “I think blondie’s the jester.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause he’s a fool.” Finn huffed and took a step forward with the scythe raised. Erik only smiled, “Slow down there, worm, lesson hasn’t started yet.”

“No,” Everyone turned to Sam. “He’s a squire.”

Erik ‘tsk’ed in aggravation leaving Finn to look at the twin’s brother in confusion. “What’s a squire?”

“It’s,” Gunner zoned out temporarily as he erased a mistake on the paper. Once the pencil had returned to it’s swift dancing on the white sheet the thought seemed to come back and his voice, corrupted by a smile, rang out. “It’s a knight-in-training.” He glanced up from his drawing to catch the fighting blue eyes of Finn staring at him. Gun chuckled silently and adjusted his position against Riot slightly before returning to the figure coming alive on the paper. 

Erik jumped in his spot impatiently. “Fine. Sure. Whatever. Can I get on with this?” With no opposition he turned back to Finn. “Ok,  _ squire,  _ defense. If I went to hit you, I’d hit to kill.” He used the sword to point to the blond’s neck, heart, stomach, and side of the leg. “These are the areas you protect. Now, if your opponent isn’t a Nightwalker, it should be easy to tell where they’re aiming.”

Finn slicked back a few loose strands of hair. “Why should it matter if it was a Nightwalker?”

“That’s the second step. We’re not there yet.” Erik took Finn’s hand and raised it in front of his face. “Keep one foot in front and the other behind, and bend your knees.” When he had compiled, the twin motioned to his scythe. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you were smart to pick that weapon. If you can catch a blade in it’s hook, you might be able to escape the attack or even disarm your enemy. But you need to focus on supporting it. Because it’s a one handed weapon, you have to use the other to keep it sturdy or that blade’s going across your neck.” There was no doubt amusement in seeing the Wood Clan’s eyes so wide, but he learned quickly and for Erik that was commendable. He pushed the blond’s chest and felt no easy movement. “Good. Make sure your feet stay like that or a blow could knock you on your ass.” His dark curls bounced as he took a few steps away, his back turned on Finn. Without a warning he spun around and lowered the blade on the boy. A clang of metal split off into the air and a proud laugh left Erik’s throat when he saw Finn had successfully blocked the attack. 

They continued this for each defensive spot until Erik had deemed him ready for the second step. “Alright, Finn, you can defend. Now you need to observe.” 

“Observe?” He glanced toward Gunner as the word drew familiarity. 

“Uh, yeah, it means to watch or monitor. I swear you Wood Clan-”

“I know what it means,  _ foot rest _ , I’ve heard it before.”

Erik growled. “Shut up,  _ jester, _ before I-”

“What? Attack me? I can block it.”

“Block this, you nomonjo-”

“Boys!” Their weapons (formerly being swung) stopped abruptly as they turned sheepishly toward Thea. “Step two?” When neither teen moved she sighed. “While you’re fighting you have to observe your opponent. See their movements before they make them, learn their fighting style, find their weaknesses. It’s the most important step. It’s why we never attack first.”

Finn’s hand dropped to his side. “You don’t attack first?” Alarm laced his words as he blew even more fallen hair from his face.

“Duh.” Erik had thrown the sword back beside his brother. “If it’s someone we’ve never fought, we always go on the defence first. We won’t attack until we know what they are going to do and when they are going to do it.”

“That’s why…” Finn’s gaze came to rest on Gunner. He hadn’t attacked Ripa. He was watching her. 

“‘That’s why’ what?”

“What? Oh, uh, nothing.”

“Whatever. I’m done. It’s too hot for this.” Erik took off his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his face. He noticed Skye looking at him from across the way, her cheeks glowing when she saw he caught her eye. Her head quickly turned back to the long-haired boy she was talking to as a smile spread on Erik’s face. “Speaking of hot…”

Sam followed his gaze. “Skye? You don’t stand a chance.”

“Sammy, if you’d  _ observe _ you’d see  _ she  _ was checking  _ me _ out.”

“She could have been eyeing the new kid.”

Erik let out snicker. “Please. Who would be interested in blondie-Thea lower your hand.” Her and Riot shared a laugh while the shirtless twin puffed out his chest. “Listen, Sam, I know you’re jealous of my game since you have, well, none but to pull the poor, precious, new kid into this? Despicable.” 

Sam opened his mouth to retaliate, but the sound of water splashing flooded anything he was about to say. Him and Erik quickly looked for the source, but Finn took the moment to observe Gunner. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he placed deliberate lines. Everytime he took a large breath, his hair would move before settling again. The green of his eyes were bright in the sunlight, and a hint of pride lingered on his face. It took for the splashing to get louder and Finn’s curiosity to get stronger for his attention to be ripped away. Thea, on the other hand, had been watching Finn monitor the brunet; a smile on his face all the while. Her and Riot were the last to find the source of the strange sound. The small group watched the long-haired boy saunter up, his arms hidden behind his back. His eyes were trained on the leader; he had yet to look up from his sketch pad but his face was lit up in humored smile. As swiftly as he could, the long-haired boy pulled the bucket of water from behind his back and threw it on the brunet. 

His prideful smile was stolen by a disappointed groan when he saw only Gunner’s arm drenched in the liquid. The latter looked up at the young runner with a cocked brow and a scoff left his throat. In a final attempt, the boy chucked the bucket at his friend. Gun swatted it away and scrambled to his feet. “Levi!”

Happy with the response, Levi took off down the dirt road with Gunner on his heels. Laughter echoed back to the tiny group as Thea shook her head and moved to check on the drawing. Luckily it had managed to avoid the attempt at a downpour; the crisp, jet black outlines forming a clear picture. Her brow raised at the familiar face and a knowing smile crept onto her face.

She turned to a clean page. “You guys want to know a fun fact?”

“Uh, no.” Erik smiled as she stuck her tongue out.

Finn moved to sit beside her. “Sure.”

His enthusiasm, even if slight, was enough to make a grin fall onto her lips. She look the pencil forgotten on the ground and drew a simple shape. “The cutesy heart we all know how to draw? That’s not what they really look like.”

“I know I’m from Wood Clan, but seriously I’m not stu-”

She giggled, “I know, Finn. Let me finish. My mom told me that this shape was based off two hearts.” She looked around the group of boys to see if any of them followed but she was met with lost expressions. “A normal, anatomically correct heart looks something like this, right?” She sketched it beside the other. “Put two of those together and it transforms into this. This,” She pointed to the shape. “Symbolises love because it takes two hearts to love.”

“No it doesn’t.” Sam avoided her gaze as he ripped grass from the ground.

Thea huffed. “You know what I meant. Lovers. Two halves make a whole.”

“Slow down there,  _ genius _ .” Erik paced slightly. “Half of an apple and half of an orange don’t make a whole anything.”

“It’s a saying.”

“Nah, you know what it is? A _ whole _ lotta bullshit.”

She rolled her eyes and hit Riot’s arm lightly when he laughed. “Whatever, I didn’t expect you to appreciate it anyway.”

“Then why tell us?”

“It wasn’t really meant for  _ you _ .” Thea glanced sideways toward Finn.

He met her gaze with questioning eyes and lowered his voice until it was a whisper. “Me?” She nodded. “Why?”

She matched his tone and leaned in. “Oh please, it doesn’t take a luck-filled idiot to see you like G-” Thea stopped abruptly when she saw Gunner approach the group.

Water was dripping from his soaked hair with clothes to match. His friends all shared the same look: confusion. “He had more buckets.” He shrugged off their laughter and took a seat beside Finn. Gun attempted to move the wet strands from his face as he scanned the ground. “My picture?”

“Safe.”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing with relief. Riot had moved into action, the word having sparked something in him. He pulled a machine (the same one that was on his bed, Finn noted) from his pocket and held it in front of Thea. “I couldn’t fix it.”

She took it carefully and analyzed the parts. With a small smile, she stood up and ran inside of her house. Finn opened his mouth to question, but Gunner had beaten him to it. “It’s a camera.”

Erik ruffled the blond strands of hair, bending down to be at his level. “That’s a device that takes pictures so you can-”

Finn shoved the twin’s face away. “Yeah, I know what a camera is.” Despite the teasing, they shared a chuckle as Thea ran back to her spot. 

She began work on the tiny electronic and the boys were left with silence. Finn focused on the goggles on top of Riot’s head. “My mom told me about a boy that used to wear a pair of those. His name was-”

“Jasper.” Riot slowly turned his head toward the teen.

“Yeah, how did you....oh.”

Riot nodded. “He gave them to me.” The ghost of a reminiscent smile haunted his face. “When I was little, I would play in the dirt. Innocent enough until I came home a mess. It got everywhere, too. Jas would take me to the lake to clean off while my mom handle the house. One time, when I was about 6, I had gotten some in my eyes. I remember it stinging and I started to cry. He just knelt in front of me and wiped the tears which only made them worse. Warriors aren’t allowed to cry. They’re not allowed to feel.” Riot shared a hardened look with Gunner before continuing. “They shouldn’t get dirt in their eyes. I felt like I failed. But he just smiled and tried to shake the dirt loose from my hair. He said,” The boy choked on his words slightly before clearing his throat. “He said, ‘Riot, it’s okay to cry, the sky does it too.’” A pause greeted by a shaky breath. “He washed me up and the pain left.” The sullen blond instinctively reached up to adjust the goggles. “After, when he was dropping me off home, he took these from his pocket and handed them to me. ‘The sky needs protected for how else could it shine?’”

Finn sat in a cold silence as it settled around the group. It was such a foreign thought. A young, playful Riot. A happy Riot. He was wrong about him. He was wrong about all of them. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Monsters? They were just teens. Teens like him. Pain had wrapped it’s arms around them, the embrace unwelcomed but everlasting.

A proud ‘aha!’ broke the boy of his trance and lifted the mood quickly. Thea held the camera in front of Riot. “Fixed!”

Half of his mouth tugged upwards in a strained attempt at a grin. “Thanks.” He pointed it at Thea and she quickly threw her arm around Sam before the click could sound. A white, thin square slowly protruded from the device and Riot carefully pulled it out. He stared at it disappointedly as a blank sheet met his gaze. “How does this…” With an agitated sigh he threw the picture down only to watch a splash of color fade into bloom. “...work?” Riot picked it back up and gently shook it until Thea’s wide smile and Sam’s matching eyes appeared in stillness. “Whoa.”

A set of laughs caught the photographer’s attention and he turned toward Gun and Finn. The brunet was shaking his head, trying to rid his hair of the water and in the process causing droplets to fall on the blond. Riot raised the camera to his eye but stalled his action, the machine falling into his lap with a soft thud.  _ Was every moment meant to be captured? It wouldn’t help them remember the way their laughter sounded together or why they were laughing in the first place. Beautiful moments don’t beg for immortality.  _ Riot had almost decided to go back in admiring the faded sky when a poisonous thought traveled through his veins and struck his heart.  _ I wish I could remember what my smile looked like.  _ He felt he needed - owed that to them. To capture a single innocent moment of happiness. Just in case. 

The click caught their attention and they turned to see Riot shaking a small white square. Gunner was about to question him when a soft hand landed on his head and ruffled the soaked strands of hair. He lifted his face up to see a woman towering above him. “Heya, nomon.”

“Heya, skaifaya.” Kylo’s grin shined above him and he thought, if only for a second, that the moon must have given her the radiance for how could one glow so brightly in such darkness? Her woodland green eyes skated across the group lying along the ground before she sent a quick glance to the immortal sparks of fire burning above. Her softened humming cascaded through the air as she scoured the ceiling of tales. The lullaby turned solemn and slow to coax memories from the sky until she had turned those livly eyes upon a single speck. She took a deep breath and turned on her heel, “Come. I have a story.”

The Natheda had left them with intrigue and she knew that was enough. Her feet lightly tread on the path, not yet accompanied. She could hear the teens scrambling, muffled comments of leaving supplies behind and catching up floating in the wind. The teens were silent as their feet scuffled along in step. 

Gunner and Finn had taken up position behind Kylo. Gun could tell by her leisurely walk and the way she would observe the night air settling around the camp she was somewhere else. Well, not somewhere. Here. Just 25 years ago here. She had built the peace between sky and night, she had seen the village rise, she had seen  _ him _ rise. 

He couldn’t remember if she had always looked this way. Older, hardened, Death’s master. She used to tell him Death was not something to be afraid of. In fact, he pitied man and found only interest in their lives for he could not have his own. He wondered if her hair had always been this long. Had the sun bleached the strands to glow in the day? Were her eyes always so vibrant or did the forest lend the color to share its life? Was her laugh always as full and inviting or had his father extracted it to spread warmth?

He was watching her hair sway with the wind when he realized where they were. The broken fencing. The teens stiffened as Kylo pulled the linked iron apart. She stepped through and glanced back at the kids with fearful wide eyes, making her roll her own. “Who do you think cut the fence?”

Gunner scoffed, the first to break from the stagnant group, and smiled at his mom in admiration. He had followed her lead, helping Thea when her turn came. Erik was the last but he paused, his hair flying in his face as he looked back. “Sorry, Prince, Queen.” He bowed lightly at the Natheda. “There’s somewhere else I have to be, but I’ll catch up.”

Finn cocked a brow. “What? You should come with us.” He shook his head at himself and knocked his skull softly. “Did I just say that? Who am I?”

Erik laughed and sent a teasing wink the blond’s way. “The jester.” He turned his body, “Really, I’ll be there soon.”

Gunner hit Finn’s shoulder weakly with a knowing smile meant not for him but the twin. “Say hi to Skye for me.”

Erik had begun walking the other way, his shoulders shaking and one hand coming up to wave. “Will do.”

Riot closed the hole and adjusted his goggles as he stared at the circle that had formed. Kylo had watched the habit he didn’t even know he had; Jasper had had it once too. She sighed, not out of boredom or anger but to feel her breath become one with the Earth. The wind tickled the leaves earning their collective laughter and the leaders thoughts. She readjusted her gaze upon the same speck and began to cross into the woodland. Once the remaining bodies had broken through the threshold of the forest they were greeted with a life rarely revealed. 

There was a tranquility found only in the night. The sounds of birds long forgotten by day dwellers hung in the cool air. Game animals could be seen in burrows fast asleep and vulnerable while others scampered about in playfulness; the instinct of survival and hunting suffocated by these calm, mysterious 12 hours of moonlight. The tree branches danced along to the wind’s melody which seemed to swirl about the visitors and steal their placid faces only to replace the lost look with awed smiles. Though the woodland found family in their leader - Kylo - the spirit of the forest. Her step brought with it blossoming flowers that radiated with a pure light. Her words calmed the insects into a low hum of compliance with each other. Her laugh shook the butterflies into flight; some landing on the teens in curiousity of the foreign bodies occupying the path. 

The line of wood eventually ended and the group stood on a cliff’s edge, the sky now free from the corruption of artificial light. Gunner had looked down at the drop; the darkness veiling the length of the fall he would know in the day. He watched a rock rush past him and greet the void until it had become one with it. The seemingly endless pit was betrayed by a quiet echoed thud and Finn appeared at his side. The smile on the blond’s face was soft and he stood with his hands resting behind his head as if he could observe the world from there all night.

“Boys.” The two teens tore their reluctant eyes from the image before them to find Kylo staring at them and their friends already sitting on the ground. Without further order, Finn found a spot beside Sam while Gun leaned on the nearest tree. His mother replaced her gaze to the shimmering lights waving above. 

I watched as she scanned the timeworn sky in search of a story waiting to be told. I wish I could say I puffed out my chest in pride of my past, but I hid. I was scared - no, terrified of those mystified green eyes. Her words were liquid silver which hardened into truth and I had forgotten mine. 

I remember life. I remember the blood stained sky, the sting of a wound, the scratch of paper in my hand. What I don’t remember is how I lived. Was I a coward? Had I earned this damp light as a warning to others? Orion’s story was of bravery, Cassiopeia's love, mine must have been a cautionary tale. Rainer told me once that when a storyteller recites his past, he can feel the warmth of life radiate through him. He said that’s how he repays them, through their words they give him life so by this life he will give them light. I’ve seen others burn out, their story completely forgotten. They wither away, sometimes ripping the sky with their cries and leave only darkness. I had believed that to be my fate. Though the question always clinging to my thoughts wasn’t when, but why it hadn’t happened already. But then I remember Rainer’s words. The warmth of memory and life. A fleeting feeling, a tingle that I’ve felt before as I heard the words specific to me. I burned because of someone. I burned  _ for  _ someone. Though the worn, silver tongue has long been dead and the small ears belong to a faded face. 

The cloud that had become my sanctuary moved on and I was left a dull light in an ocean of luminescents. I glanced over to Lexa, I could just make her out from the other side. She, too, was watching the Nightwalker but those radiant eyes lifted to me and her laugh sparked across the sky. I sat confused until the Natheda adjusted her footing and spoke out.

“The King remembered by wind.” There was no doubt. The Nightwalker was looking at me - they all were. “The last story my father ever told me. The only one that ever mattered to him.” Kylo sent me a smile, one familiar to that of the Moon, and turned back to the children around her. “Neko of Ice Nation.”

Neko. That’s right. My name was Neko.

“A young boy. No older than you, skaifaya.” Her gaze darted to her son and Gunner crossed his arms.

“A king.” I couldn’t tell you what he was thinking - not this time. He ruffled his own hair into his face and sat down beside Finn, his head lowered. The blond seemed as confused as I was as he nudged him, but received nothing as an answer.

Kylo watched him carefully before continuing. “Not always. He was once just a boy - a runner, like Levi. And like Levi, or yourselves, he had family. His father - the Ice King - was a cruel ruler; a marionette to the Queen. The puppeteer tethered her strings until they wove their veil over her face as a shy, loving wife and mother. But if you could lift it back you would see the real tyrant. It was her kingdom, not his, and she planned it staying that way. It took little time for the king to take Death’s hand; a strange illness overtook his feeble mind before his body followed. The Queen saw her chance for power, the veil buried with her late husband. Long was the shadow she cast, and it fell dark upon the young boy she threw aside. The young boy she underestimated.”

“Tell me about him.” Gunner looked up through the fallen locks of hair to meet a group of soft, understanding eyes. He avoided those he could until he found his mother’s. “It’s his story, right? Komfona (grandfather) must have told you a little bit about him. Something.”

The Natheda nodded, “He described him once. A lean boy, tall with light hair and fair skin. His voice portrayed a confidence not easily found in his stance, but my father believed it to be because he was always fidgeting - always aching to run. He said once that he could tell by the wide eyes and innocent smile that yearned for peace that his star would be soft, but everlasting. A bright light can blind while a glow can lead.” Kylo came to look at me then, and I felt the warmth start to spread. “Not all that come to power want it. Sometimes it is thrust upon them and they keep it not for themselves, but for others. Neko just wanted to run. He never complained while his childhood was taken from him, he never blamed his people for the pressure, and he never cursed Death when he came for him. In fact, I believe he welcomed the known stranger. The phantom helped the boy hold the weight of the world in his hands. He had been deemed king by Azgeda, the people finally ready to stop their reveries of sanctuary and prosperity and relish in the reality of it. But the Queen, not ready to give up her reign, feigned witnesses saying Nightwalkers were to blame for the late King’s death. While Neko was no fool, his people called for revenge. War was declared. I think the boy saw through Death’s eyes. He saw that eventually the world would get too heavy - it always does - and he would drop it, the sphere crashing to the ground in a ripple of repercussions. Repercussions his people would have to feel. Deciding the sky was too full, Neko ran to Nightwalker territory. My father told me the moron walked up to the front gate with his hands held high and that innocent grin on his lips. His breathing was heavy and seemed to enjoy the air rushing into his lungs. His question was simple enough: he asked for peace. The war was over. My father offered Neko a horse to ride home, but he wanted to run. He wanted to feel the wind. He left during sunset, but he would never get to see it rise. The Queen had had him followed, and once he was out in a field somewhere in the middle of Ice and Night territory, she ordered for a bow man to strike him down. It was not until the next day, when my father went to travel to Azgeda, was he found. The arrow pierced his shoulder, his eyes locked on an eternal dark sky and the air ceasing its movements in and out of his chest. The last thing he ever told me was that despite the cold wind that was surely biting at the young King’s skin, the pain pulsing in his shoulder, and the inevitable fear he felt for his future, one last smile lingered on his blue lips as if Death had told him something favorable right before his heart said its last goodbye.”

He had. I remember now.  _ There is freedom in death, boy.  _ He had taken the glass globe from my hands and told me to run, and I did. My pulse traveled the sky in flickers of light. I wasn’t like Rainer, I had no one to guide home or remind that I still held life without breath. Like I said before, I was waiting to fade. Now I know why I didn’t. Maxson had shared my story with an eager little girl and she had remembered. All these years and she remembered. Maybe I knew a boy was waiting for me - that he’d need me. And that one day that boy would hear my story and smile. He was smiling now. Not one of those small passing smiles that fade into suppressed memories, but a wide grin that squinted his eyes slightly. The kind that can’t be refused no matter the rules for a Gona. The kind that stretch your cheeks until they hurt but you revel in the pain because it’s the good kind of pain; the one you don’t feel enough. Maxon was my example of the leader I wanted to be. I had become Gunner’s. 

It’s strange, the way memories come back. No, they didn’t come back. They were always there they just...flashed into color. I had gotten used to seeing things in black and white, and like a water bucket spilling on a sketch pad it ran down into one massive gray blob. But Kylo’s words, they added vivid paint over the damp canvas and I could see the green forest trail I used to run through, the brown and white of the mountain, the yellow rays of sun competing with the light blue sky around it. Toward the end the sun won. The sky had turned orange - red even. It was as if the blood spilled on the ground seeped into the sky so the whole world could mourn the losses. But what I remembered - something Kylo didn’t - was the golden blonde hair and shiny green eyes of a young girl. A young Nightwalker. 

She was right of course, I walked into their camp with my hands up and a smile on my face. But I wasn’t smiling because of the death or I thought the different clan funny. No, I was just happy to feel the familiar quake of tired muscles, the desperate gasps of air my lungs begged for, the sweat dripping down my face. I hadn’t felt the wind run with me in a long time. 

I was first approached by guards then by a man and a young boy. Tattoos littered his face while the boy had a cloth over his mouth. I remember him adjusting it several times as if he wasn’t used to it. I learned quickly that the man was their Natheda, Maxson, and the boy his son, Otan. I addressed his title then mine, then I offered peace. He didn’t believe me at first, but after my father I didn’t blame him. There was this long pause before light padding made its way down the path. I could hear a woman yelling ‘Kylo, komba hir! (Come back!)’ processed by a tiny giggle. It was a small girl, so full of life and hope as she clung onto the Natheda’s shirt. ‘Noni! Noni! (Dad! Dad!) she repeated. At least, until she saw me. Before Maxson could stop her she had run up to me. She was so small. Had only 5 years at the most. I remember the wide innocent eyes, the fallen hair in her face, the young grin that revealed a missing front tooth. ‘Du sad op sontaim? (Do you like stories?)’ she had asked. I could only nod and extend my smile to her. She smiled back. She had quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me toward her hut, her father and brother following closely behind. She may not be aware, but she stopped the war. She saved lives. She was always meant to lead. 

And lead she did. The group of teens was now on their way back, orders from the Natheda. They each gave me a small nod and went on their way. All except Gunner. He bowed his head, “Neko,” When his eyes met mine he broke into a small laugh. “Thank you.” 

I could only send a slight chill for a response. A leaf got caught in my streak of wind and he watched it float for a few seconds before falling into the abyss below. He must have known, he must have, because he saluted me once more and crept back through the forest to Finn’s side. 

I finally knew who I was, who I had been, and why I had been among those to not fade. I was about to run to Lexa, to finally talk to the Heda, but something stopped me. A warmth spreading from my heart. I looked around until I saw the mountain - my kingdom. Someone else was telling my story.


	6. Does the Moon Look Brighter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this finds you.

“You think Clarke’s going to be our new mom? I’d take her over galactic bitch any day.”

“Shut the fuck up, Erik. They’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t smile like that.” Erik pointed his knife at the pair across the square.

“Long lost friends do,” Finn stalked up behind them. When the twins turned to scrutinize him he chuckled lightly. “I don’t want to be your brother.”

“Look at that,” Erik stuck the weapon back in his boot with a little too much force to be playful. “We have something in common.” 

Sam watched him carefully and sighed, “So where’s the prince?”

“Here.” Gunner walked down the path to join the growing group. “I was asking my dad about something.”

Erik snorted, “I hope it wasn’t about the moon.” Three of the boys burst into a short lived laugh while Finn smiled awkwardly not understanding the jab. “So, Murphy, what do you make of that?”

Gun followed the line of sight to Clarke and Bellamy. He observed silently for a bit before shaking his head. “Get your gossip from Skye, there’s nothing there.” 

“What?” Erik yelled loud enough to grab the adults’ attention. “You’re shitting me. They’re basically making heart eyes at each other.”

Finn interjected quietly, “My mom doesn’t do ‘heart eyes’. She does vacant ‘ghosts of the past’ eyes.”

“For The 100 that’s basically the same thing.” 

Sam smacked the back of his brother’s head. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Let’s play a game: Which Parent did I get That From?”

Sam’s infuriated words came out hot, “Ai na frag yu op. (I will kill you.)”

A nerve had been struck, and Erik was prone to strike more. “Wamplei nou laik eno. (Death is not the end.)” 

A warrior’s yell was left where Sam stood; Erik laughed at the threat of his life as they ran through the village. Finn watched uninterested as they disappeared from view and turned, instead, to watch his mom reconnect with the guard. “You really don’t think-”

“She’s still in love with Lexa, Finn. You can see it. And Bellamy,” Gunner stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced down the path at her house. “Orion is his home. They’re just stubborn.” 

“Did you spend a lot of time bullshitting when you were a child or did you get it from your mom because there’s no way this  _ facade _ of wiseness is real.”

Gunner nudged Finn with his shoulder lightly as they laughed. “I actually got it from my dad, and he would say it’s just guessing - not bullshitting. An educated guess.”

Finn clicked his tongue, “But, uh, you’d have to be educated then.” He loved the look that covered the other’s boy face. He loved the way a smirk lifted his own lips. He loved the slightly embarrassed chuckle that Gunner used to cover up the fact that his mind had gone blank on a comeback. To give the boy a break he glanced back over to his mother, somberness finding it’s familiar way back to his heart. “Sometimes she’s so brave and quiet I forget she’s suffering.”

Gun found the blonde across the way. Bellamy had said something; her eyes darted to the ground then to the gate. 

Finn crossed his arms. “You know the problem with tough people? They don’t normally break, but on the rare occasion that they do, you don’t know how to respond.”

Clarke stood there in front of them, but Gunner saw Kylo. Blonde hair. Old eyes. A leader. “You stand by their side,” The brunette looked at Finn. “And you let them break.”

Finn’s mouth opened to retort, but he didn’t understand what would cause such a curt answer. So, he focused on the blond boy sprinting down the trail - once slipping and kicking up a cloud of dust, though he gracefully caught himself - to approach the two almost at full speed.

Riot pulled at the prince’s coat, hard. “They’re going to kill each other.”

Gunner was gone the second the sentence was pushed through aching lungs. He raced beside Riot until the scene brought them to a dirt uplifting halt.

Erik’s throwing knives were in hand; Sam’s sword glistened in the sun. Anger painted their faces into strangers. Some villagers watched in confusion, one suggesting to get the leader to dismiss the fight. 

Erik growled, “Don’t bother. Orion’s with the Natheda, probably suggesting something that will get more people killed.” 

Sam’s scream alerted the adults down the path, “Noah wanted to go, Erik!. Stop blaming her!” 

A hole had been set that day in the Blakes’ hearts, Erik filled it with fire. “He only went because he wanted to be like  _ her.”  _ He twirled the knife and lunged.

Sam blocked managing to cripple the attack by getting the knife stuck in his hilt. “And why do you do it?” 

The twin twisted the weapon, cutting his brother’s hand. “What?”

“You’re always up for fight. You put yourself in danger constantly. Sometimes I think you want to die.” A grunt, and Sam pushed Erik back.

He slid across the gravel before getting his baring. “And who would care if I did? You all would just move on. That’s what we do, right? We forgot!” 

Sam’s hand dropped. He had tried to fill the hole with other people. “None of us have forgotten Noah.” 

“Then why doesn’t anyone talk about him?” Erik charged. “You all just build walls to keep out the cruelty that it fucking hurts!” He slashed at Sam’s cheek before he could raise the weapon. “And you know while you did that you left me out, too!” Sam had no time to raise the sword before Erik stomped his foot on it and kicked him to the ground. He stood over him, “Orion can’t look at me, dad’s not the same, and you act like I’m the bad guy!” 

Sam could feel the sting on his cheek and the liquid fell like a tear might have. “Look at you!  _ You’re _ the one that pushed mom away!  _ You’re _ the one that acted out after! They had to lock you up for two weeks, Erik, and  _ we’re _ the ones that changed?” 

He threw the knives down. They landed beside his brother’s face. Lucky Erik was the warrior, right? His voice chilled the already shocked crowd that had seen him grow up, “Get floated, Sam. I wish it had been you.”

He stepped over his mirror and started to walk. He didn’t know where. Just somewhere. Follow the dust. Pass the gate. Follow the green. Pass the ocean. Follow the night.

He bumped into a shoulder and hands quickly clamped around his collar and pulled him in. His hands were numb, buzzing. He just wanted to watch the dirt shift under his feet. He didn’t need the disappointment in Gunner’s eye. They were Kylo’s eyes too. He thought Gun was shaking him or his hands were shaking. He couldn’t tell. “You looked like you were about to kill him.”

You don’t know everything,  _ prince. _ Your family is still alive. You just lost an aunt and uncle. Not your  _ brother. _ “If there had been an X,” Erik slowly met the boy’s eye. “I would have.”

Gunner threw the twin away from him. Erik stumbled slightly then straightened. He just wanted to watch the dirt shift under his feet. He just wanted to walk this path, entranced by the wind as it danced the dust away, and run up to the steps of his house. He just wanted to open the door and hear raucous laughter. Join in on the banter between his parents; he used to always take his mom’s side. Listen to the sob story of a hunter-in-training that just wasn’t getting the hang of it. Hug the older brother that bursted into the room with a smile. The same brother that inspired him to be a warrior. The same brother that never smiled anymore. That never did anything anymore. If his fight was over, how would they meet again?

Gunner watched in horrified indifference. He had been waiting for the explosion, but he hadn’t expected the apathetic and unsurprised nothing he’d feel toward Erik. He’d broken, but Gun didn’t want to stand by his side. What was he saying? That’s his best friend. Of course he cares, not caring is just easier. Less painful. Why hadn’t anyone figured that out yet? Or they had and the guilt was suffocating. 

The young leader fit his steps into the boot prints of Erik. He set his hand down on his shoulder, and a drum sounded loudly. 

It awakened the twin. It blew out the fire. It cracked the glass. Erik chanced a glance toward Gunner to see a stoic warrior. His face gave nothing away. No fear leaked from the tanned face. Erik was sure his had paled. His lip was quivering and he wasn’t sure where the prince pulled his courage from. 

The world was once again too big. 

Kylo had ordered the warriors to ready themselves, the rest were placed in the Ark for safety. Scouts were sent into the trees, they heard nothing from them for hours. 

“I don’t get it.” Thea watched her dad pace the room as she addressed her friends. “They sounded the drums. They’re supposed to attack, why haven’t they?”

Erik stood away from the group, his eyes glued to the window. “You complaining?” 

“No, just asking questions.” Her words spit venom. She was by Sam’s side, protectively watching over him. 

“Are you guys sure-”

“Yes.” Four voices in unison confirmed Finn’s question.

Gun sighed, “It’s no surprise you never heard it. Wood Clan was always-”

“Dull.”

Gunner’s eyes ghosted over Erik before shrugging. “-dull. Bellamy pissed off the cowards across the ocean. Mom diffused it, but not before the drums.”

Thea shivered, “Why haven’t they attacked?”

“Maybe they’re waiting for us to meet them on the battlefield?” Finn suggested, though it was merely to keep the Ark from becoming too quiet.

“Not the custom.” Gunner stood from his spot. War was supposed to wait on man not the other way around. He strolled with confidence through the crowd, as if his movement was an order given from his mother; he found people were much less enthusiastic about interrogating a puffed out chest and a creased brow. 

The night air hit his heated skin with cool relief and the torches down the path lit up the abandoned town. The boys meet him one after the other; Finn, Sam, Riot, and after a prolonged moment, Erik. 

They all took in the hollow village before Sam spoke, “Wick caught Thea by the jacket so we lost our genius.” 

“Yeah, well, the front line doesn’t exactly employ intelligent people anyway, does it?” Erik sniffed, avoiding the glance he’d won from his brother. 

“Enough.” Gunner split his glare between them and held a hand out in front of Erik. The boy hesitantly gave up one of his knives. Once the metal indented itself into his palm, the prince had descended into the shadows. 

Finn was the first to follow, Erik after with Riot and Sam trudging along with doubt. They were stalking along the fencing, their destination no secret to the group. When the broken links were found Gunner pulled them apart but stopped when only a black vortex of uncertainty greeted them. 

Erik snorted, “We’re going to die.”

“I thought death wasn’t the end.” Sam’s arms were crossed, and his eyebrow raised in smugness.

“For you,” His brother growled with a smile. “It will be.”

Finn, for one, was tired of their bickering. He made to catch Gunner’s attention when Riot caught his. The blonde boy looked disheveled and scared. More than that he looked lost. 

He quickly wiped an eye, adjusting his goggles to hide such a fact. “Stop. You still have each other. So, just stop.” 

He clambered through the fencing without another word and as if he hadn’t said any. Sam and Erik stood with tense shoulders before daring a look at each other and following him into the forest.

Finn sighed loudly and swiveled his eyes onto Gun. “Not that I’m against reckless behavior, but what’s the plan here?”

The leader brushed fallen hair back with a slow breath. “The drums sounded hours ago.”

The chuckle that came from the blond was one of innocence. “Yeah, and they sent out scouts to report back.”

Oh how Gunner wished he still looked that innocent. How he wished he didn’t know better. “Exactly.”

There was something so mystifying about Gunner that killed any follow up question Finn ever had. Something so definite in his answers. Everything he needed to say was said in a few words, and if you were clever enough you could decipher it. Finn always wondered why he was never clever enough. So when the brunette stepped through the fence and nodded in the direction of their friends, Finn followed blindly.

The crunching of littered wood unsettled Sam. “Who was deployed?”

Gunner’s eyes were trained upwards, “Zach and Kleiny.” 

Erik clicked his tongue, “Tree scouts. Smart.”

Finn stumbled on a fallen branch and quickly regained balance. “There’s more than one?”

“Do you ever pay attention?” Riot’s voice was quiet and he wasn’t quite paying attention to his surroundings. The crunching had stopped. Afraid one of them had spotted something, his eyes darted back to the ground to find his friends all staring at him in awe. 

Gunner was the first to start chuckling; Sam, Erik, and Finn broke quickly thereafter. Erik patted the smaller boy’s back while Finn shook his head in embarrassment. 

Riot was beaming.

When they had settled and gone about their search it seemed as though they’d fine nothing in the dense wood. Sam called for a turn around and a nap, all present company giving a unanimous ‘aye’.

Erik had started questioning Finn about the girls in the wood clan to which the latter and Gunner shared an exhausted smile. But in good sport Finn answered what he could as they turned back toward Arkadia. 

Gunner was about to when his eye caught on something. His shoulders slumped, the hope welling in his chest withered into dread, and the blade he’d forgotten about in his hand was suddenly to small to keep all of them safe. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to still be innocent. He didn’t want to know better.

“No.”

Erik’s good mood couldn’t hear the defeat in the soft voice. “I know, Murphy, not exactly your type, but that Azgeda-” He spun to see a cocky smile laced across his friend’s face but instead a silhouette was locked in spot. He was still standing where they had been, his eyes on a tree. “Prince?”

“We’re at war.”

The four boys raced to his side, three of them freezing in shock. Finn just saw a tree, the night was no friend to his eyes. “What?”

It was Sam that responded, “Kleiny.” 

Finn remembered a flashlight in his pack and took it out. He was never so scared of light. One click and the tree was bathed in red. It ran like a waterfall down the bark. He followed the blood up to the body lying limply in the tree’s arms; grey eyes stared down at them. 

He slowly clicked the flashlight once more and let the darkness hide the image. “We need to run or we _ are _ going to die.”

“Ogeda hef souda wan op _. _ (All men must die.)” The voice was unfamiliar, the tone dangerous. 

The boys immediately formed a small circle. Sometimes in the stillness of death, the rush of life is forgotten. They never noticed the Rogues surrounding them as they gaped at their departed friend. 

Panic striked Gunner but with it came a promise. “This will not be your grave.” He looked over his shoulder at the other boys. He couldn’t help but laugh: they were all giving him the same look. In a skilled turn he managed to push Finn toward the other boys, “Run!” and throw the knife at the Rogue who spoke. 

It was a blur. Riot had grabbed onto Finn’s arm to pull him along. Someone was shouting. They were all shouting. Erik kept looking back. Sam was leading them. The forest just kept going. Gunner was behind them. He yelled something. Rogues were left and right. Someone screamed. Sam disappeared. Erik too. Riot pulled too hard and sent them crashing to the ground. No. He meant to. They were in a cave. Footsteps ran above them. Passed them. Erik let out a breath. 

“Wait,” Finn’s skin crawled before Sam finished. “Where’s Gunner?”

“Fuck!” Erik ran to the entrance looking out. “He was right behind us!”

Finn frantically searched the small cavern as if the brunette would appear with a smirk, but all he found was Riot. He looked lost. “Riot?”

“Someone screamed.”

“What?” Erik shook his head. “No, not Gunner. Murphy’s too damn stubborn. No fucking way. I’m going back out.”

“No, Erik!” Sam pulled his brother away from the opening. “You go out there, you die like him!”

Finn’s head was buzzing. “He’s not dead!” 

The twins both glanced toward the wood clan boy. His fist were clenched and his breath shook as if fragile. Erik nodded, moving toward him to place his hand on his shoulder. “You’re right, squire. He’s probably just kicking Rogue ass.” 

I should mention Erik was never Finn’s biggest fan. He didn’t think their group needed another number or that some wood clan could ever be a nightwalker. He didn’t see him as anything other than a distracting pest that stole away Gunner’s attention (Erik loved being the center of it). No one could care about Murphy more than the kids that grew up with him, but Finn’s eyes said differently. The way he looked up at Erik. Hurt made tears pool, loss made red rim the white, disbelief narrowed the brows above them. Erik hated it. It wasn’t Finn. It wasn’t innocent and naive. It wasn’t stupid. 

“We’ll search for him in the morning,” Erik just wanted to be kids again. “When your eyes are actually of use, alright mokskwoma?”

Finn shrugged his hand off and went to find a spot along the wall where white paint smeared into something unrecognizable. It became an unspoken agreement to sleep in the abandoned cave. Anything to pull the sun up quicker.

Sleep, however, had a different agreement for Finn. He woke with a start a few short hours later in a cold sweat. He stared up at the dark ceiling cooling his breathing when something told him to go outside. 

He looked around at his comrades to see they were still in sleep’s embrace. Cracking his back, he got up slowly and placed deliberate steps toward the entrance. He stopped when he got in front of Riot. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the boy’s goggles were cracked. He didn’t remember that happening; but the outside was calling.

He stepped over Sam or maybe Erik. Everything was hazy. The opening was a grate that he had to push open, and the sound was enough to warn all of Wood Clan, but nothing stirred as he climbed out. 

The forest was dim. The canopy of leaves left little moonlight to cast a glow. It wasn’t the same woods that they walked through that night the Natheda lead them. It was not kind nor patient. It didn’t shine with each step and the only noise was the screaming in Finn’s head. 

He squinted, something was coming closer. It was slow. 

“Finn.” 

Perhaps he didn’t know notice the distance in the voice despite being right in front of him. He was too blinded by who it belonged to. “Gunner?”

“Finn.” The silhouette took another step into a ray of moonlight. Gunner’s skin was ashen, his eyes glossed over. Cuts ran down his cheek but the blood was already dried. His clothes were dirty and on his stomach spanned a long gash that still seemed to be leaking the red liquid. His brows narrowed and his vacant eyes stared through Finn. “ _ ripa  _ (murderer).” 

Finn fell backwards with a yelp. He clawed to get away from the corpse limping towards him. “No, no!”

“I was left behind.” The sound came from corrupted lungs, but his chest had no rise or fall. “You left me behind.”

Tears streamed down Finn’s face. “No, Gunner, I didn’t want to! Riot pulled me! I thought you were right there!”

“Always so quick to let another take the blame, eh ripa?” The corpse smirked. He leaned down to the now paralyzed boy and gripped the front of his shirt. The whisper sent a blade of cold down Finn’s spine. “I know what you did. They told me.” 

“What? I-” Eight shadows appeared next to the body in front of him. They had no face, nor names to be associated with. 

Gunner glanced at them before dropping Finn back on the ground and standing straight. “Their blood is on your hands.” He backed up with the figures. “And so is mine.”

Finn reached out to pull Gun back, but his hand was covered in red. He looked down to see a knife in his other hand and a trail of blood leading away from his leg. He followed it. 

Gunner was on the ground, the shadows gone. His hands were over his stomach trying to control the blood. His eyes were alive, frantic. “Why? Finn, why?” 

“No!” The blond crawled to his friend’s side. “No, Gunner! No!”

Finn jolted up, his head whipping around. He was in the cave, his back wet with sweat. Sam and Erik were in front of him, their eyes wide. The latter spoke, “I thought you’d never wake up. Some nightmare, huh?”

Finn slowly took in what had happened and nodded. Riot was beside him wide awake. His goggles intact. 

Sam sat back, “You good?”

Finn nodded again and let out a deep breath. “Some nightmare.”

Erik scoffed, “Screaming bloody murder, I don’t doubt it.”

Finn was sure he was pale. He put his head into his hands, but he was only awarded a second to gain control when footsteps sounded above them.

Erik was up in a second. “Shit. I never thought they’d find this place.”

“It’s not like Lincoln was keeping it a secret.” Sam pulled the sword from its sheath.

“Well he did.”

“Like, 25 years ago with the 100.”

“Do you really want to do this now?”

“No. Not when we’re about to die.”

The grate creaked open and they heard a body fall onto the steps. Erik quickly threw a knife and the clink of metal echoed through the room. 

Gunner looked up from the knife now on the ground to the boy it belonged with a smirk. “Maybe you should switch to a sword.”

Erik’s open mouth turned into a large smile. “You’re not Rogue meat!” 

The prince’s brow furrowed but soon the twins had wrapped themselves around him. “Reapers eat people. Rogues are just dicks.”

Sam laughed, “Spoken like a scholar.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gunner pulled back and walked the room to Riot who about jumped on the boy. “Hey, kid. I’m good.”

Riot’s words were muffled by Gunner’s jacket. “Never again.”

The boy chuckled softly and patted the other’s back. “Never again.” Those green eyes soon found Finn’s. “This is the only time I’ll ever hug you so if-”

It didn’t take another word. The two boys embraced and Finn could feel Gunner’s grip tighten. “I thought you were dead. I thought it was my fault.”

Gun pulled back with a smile. “It’s thanks to you I’m alive.” He held out a scythe at the same moment Finn realize his was gone. When he pushed him he must have taken it. Finn grabbed the handle, noticing on the blade a dent that was no doubt from Erik’s throwing knife. “We should get going. It’s about to be first light.”

“Sounds good to me, I’m starving.” Erik was the first to head toward the grate.

“They’re dead because of me.” Finn was staring at the scythe. The guilt had eaten at him since the moment he met the nightwalkers. Since the moment it happened. 

Sam raised a brow, “Ominous.”

“Right,” Erik retreated his step. “And, uh, who would ‘they’ be?”

Finn slowly looked up. “Your family.”

The twin looked to his brother. He slapped the back of his head to which Sam yelled in pain. “Nope. He’s alive.”

“Your,” The words failed him. He had failed them. “Your brother.” He motioned to Gunner. “Your aunt and uncle.” He couldn’t meet Riot’s eye, but the boy knew. “Your mom and dad.” It was silent. They were waiting for him to speak. To explain. “Trikru was getting attacked by Rogues. Our leader asked a nearby clan for help. I was out looking for all these places my mom talked about in her stories. I just wanted to feel close to her. I was near the waterfall when they saw me.”

“Rogues.” Gunner looked apprehensive. Stiff and inanimate. 

Finn nodded. “They started to chase me and I didn’t know what to do - I didn’t want to lead them to my people. I didn’t want them to die.”

“But our people,” Erik was fuming. “It was okay for them to be slaughtered?”

“No! I was just running and it was such a blur. I didn’t even notice the field I ran through had people in it. It was only until I heard the screams - and, and I went back - to help, but only two of them were even standing and soon they weren’t. So I ran back home and never mentioned anything. It was all my fault.”

Finn waited for yelling or punching, but Erik just turned towards the grate. The nightwalkers had gone pale. They looked sick and malcontent. Sam’s hands were shaking as he went to follow his brother, but had to find support on the wall. Riot avoided the blond’s guilt ridden eyes and began his slow, unsure trek to the exit. Gunner was staring at Finn in disbelief, but other than that clear emotion the latter couldn’t read him.

Fear had made itself home on earth long ago when the 100 fell, but it doesn’t like to be conquered. It had imprinted itself on each boy in a way that would last a lifetime.

Riot was scared of being okay without his parents. He was scared of laughing.

Erik and Sam shared their fear: being an only child.

Finn was terrified of losing the only friends he’d ever had.

Gunner was petrified of giving up on the wrong person. It wasn’t an old fear, but one that had just been born, and he was terrified. 

The leader didn’t walk toward the grate, but towards the boy. Finn watched in anticipated horror, but Gunner gently wrapped his arms around him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

The other three watched silently. Erik leaned on the wall and watched his brother make sense of everything. Sam nodded to himself and let out a sigh. Riot adjusted his goggles, but stopped midway now aware he did it. A tiny smile lit up his cheeks. Erik watched Finn melt in Gunner’s arms. He wanted to be kids again. “Starving, remember?” Finn’s eyes darted to the twin who only offered an understanding smile. 

The grate creaked goodbye at the boys who used to explore the caverns in search of Lincoln’s secrets. The forest was quiet, Gunner noted, as they walked. As Erik fantasized about the menu, distracting the rest, he also noticed a mist covered the trail. He looked up at the sky just beginning to change hue. The stars flickered impatiently and the rays of light casted a path of their own. 

Gunner’s heart drummed, “Hey, Finn?”

Finn’s smile infected his words, “Yeah, Gun?”

“Does the moon look brighter?”

“Maybe.” Finn shrugged. “Why, prince, your eyes hurt?”

Gun could only give a half hearted smile. He wished he didn’t know better.

“Guys!” Erik was ahead, his scream threatening to beat Gun’s heart out of his chest. “I see fire!”


End file.
